The Moment I Saw You
by sneetchstar
Summary: Arthur and Guinevere meet by chance. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This one is a little different. I wanted to do something from Guinevere's point of view because I rarely do s****o****. Originally, I intended for this to be all journal entries, but then I realized it was rather limiting and I couldn't achieve the level of detail I normally like. The narrative is a mix of journal entries intertwined with scenes, so we get Gwen's inner thoughts along with the actual story. Her ****journal entries are in italics.**

_8 May_

_ So, I got married today. I wasn't planning on it. It just kind of happened. I know that's not how weddings usually go down, but this i__s__ kind of how my life happens._

_ I was at the park with Tito, taking him on a walk. I sat on the bench for a minute, and a frisbee __landed__ at my feet. I picked it up and saw a guy looking expectantly at me. He was really cute. Okay, he was probably the most gorgeous man I'd seen (in person) in a while (or not in person) (wow). Maybe ever._

_ I can't throw frisbees. I've tried. It always ends badly. Once, I gave Gwaine a black eye_.

_ So, like a huge dork, I got up and walked towards him with his frisbee. He jogged towards me, meeting me halfway, and I gave it back to him. He took it, smiled (OMG),_ _patted Tito, and said thanks. I smiled and walked away..._

Less than a minute later, he is at her elbow again, frisbee gone, probably thrown to his friend. She hadn't even gotten back to the bench yet.

"Hi, I'm Arthur," he says with a warm smile, extending his hand. She takes it and he kisses her hand instead of shaking it, inhaling slightly to catch the light scent of lavender from her skin. He asks, "Will you marry me?"

Gwen stares, stunned. _Did he just..._ "Excuse me?" She looks around briefly, wondering if there are hidden cameras somewhere.

He looks straight into her eyes, and she forgets how to breathe for a moment. So does he. His heart is pounding, and he knows it is because of this woman in front of him, with her clear brown eyes and the gorgeous smile he _needed_ to see again.

"Will you marry me?" he softly repeats, his voice like warm honey.

"That's… quite a pickup line you've got there. How many times has it worked for you?" she asks, gently but definitely extracting her hand from his.

Arthur releases her hand, not wishing to overwhelm her any more than he already has. "It's no line, I promise," he says, his face serious, but soft.

"Right. So, this is one of those awful hidden camera programs then. You know, one of those that puts people in 'wacky' situations, thinking it's funny?" Gwen asks, still not convinced.

"No, no, I promise you it's not. I don't have a film crew, that..." he looks around, "that baby carriage there is _just_ a baby carriage, not a camera in disguise, and no one's going to come up and ask you to sign a release form."

She blinks. "So, you just decided to come to the park and propose to a random girl?"

"Not a random girl," he says, slowly, carefully. "You. And, I actually came to the park to play frisbee with my mate, Merlin. But, fate intervened."

Guinevere gapes. _What is this bloke's deal? I mean, this is kind of creepy, but—_

Tito pulls the leash, having spotted a squirrel or something, and snaps her back to reality. "Very funny," she says, and starts to turn away.

"I'm quite serious, I assure you," he says

She turns back. "You want to _marry_ me? You don't even know me."

"That's what I'm trying to correct," Arthur says, smiling the same affectionate smile. He offers his hand, holding it steady, not reaching towards her, letting her make the decision to take it or not. After a few seconds hesitation, and while looking into his eyes, Gwen slowly places her much smaller hand in his. Arthur wraps his fingers around hers and grins, followed by a short pleased laugh. Her hand is slender and soft and fits into his perfectly. He is holding it gently but securely, as if she is precious and requires great care.

Gwen looks down at their joined hands and inexplicably begins to feel a bit foolish. The caress of Arthur's thumb over her knuckles combined with the plaintive look in his eyes indicates he is in earnest. He isn't just being a jerk, playing a stupid prank. His proposal isn't just a stupid pick-up line.

She tries to ignore how his touch makes her feel a bit warmer and makes her stomach wobble in a very nice way. She angles her head at him, regarding him for a moment, noting his expensive trainers and manicured hands. Intentionally, artfully tousled salon haircut. Straight, white teeth. _If he's a creeper, he's a posh creeper with good taste._

_He's also ridiculously handsome and well-spoken and seems to be serious... and I really should say something instead of just staring._

"Kind of putting the cart before the horse, aren't you?" she finally asks, trying to push down the baser instincts that are threatening to take over her brain. _ I don't know why I keep talking to him._

_Yes, I do. He's interesting. He doesn't seem dangerous. And, my hand in his feels right._

"Why walk when we can run?" he asks, kissing her hand again, the texture of her skin beneath his lips like a drug. "What's your name?"

_Now he asks my name?_ "Gwen," she says. "You... you _are_ aware you are a crazy person, right? Is there someone I should call? Do you have a medical alert bracelet, or...?" She turns their joined hands, pointedly looking at his wrist.

"No, completely sane," he laughs, holding up his other wrist for her inspection. She sees nothing apart from a very expensive-looking watch. "Gwen," he repeats her name, trying it out. "Please, at least come sit and talk with me."

Gwen opens her mouth, but he speaks before she can come up with an argument.

"I would like to point out that this is a very public place and you will be perfectly safe. All you would have to do is scream," Arthur says, smiling again. He looks down, almost shyly, then adds, "However, I would never dream of hurting you. I promise."

Something in his demeanor makes her believe him. "All right."

He shifts their hands to hang between them and leads her to the bench, unable to contain the grin on his face. His friend Merlin, now sitting under a nearby tree, looks up, sees Arthur's expression, and dramatically rolls his eyes.

"Okay, Gwen, ask me anything you like," he says, reaching down to pet her dog with his free hand. Tito quickly moves to place his snoot between Arthur's knees, having found a new friend.

Gwen sighs at her dog, then looks Arthur square in the eyes. "Why?" she asks.

He only paused a moment before answering. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were the person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I've never been more grateful for Merlin's – that's my mate there, Merlin – lackluster frisbee skills," he explains, pointing to a tall, skinny man with black hair and large ears who is peering at his phone, looking rather sunburnt, the frisbee on the ground next to him. He looks up and waves, offering a broad, lopsided smile.

She finds herself smiling despite herself and raises her hand in a small wave. He responds with a thumbs-up, intending to be encouraging.

"See, Merlin says I'm okay," Arthur continues. "And, if you can't trust the endorsement of one complete stranger about another, what can you trust, right?"

"You're strange," Gwen answers, laughing a little. She clears her throat and continues, serious again. "Look, I'm willing to go out on a date with you, but... why get married? Do you have some sort of fortune you stand to inherit, but can only claim it if you're married? Are you in danger of being deported? Did you tell your boss you were married to secure a promotion?" she asks, mentally ticking off scenarios she remembered from various romantic comedy movies.

"Nothing like that at all," he insists, laughing, his blue eyes twinkling at her. "I just don't see the point in the whole process of dating when I already know what I want, and that is to be your husband."

"That's... well, that's really lovely, but it doesn't quite answer my question," she replies, pushing past the strange feelings his sweet words have brought forth. _I want to be your husband. _His unusual word choice bounces around inside her skull, and she puzzles over why he chose to phrase it that way. Not "I want to marry you" or "I want you to be my wife", but "I know what I want, and that is to be your husband." She files it away under _Think More About This Later._

Arthur pauses, trying to put his feelings into words. "I saw you and something just... clicked into place. You smiled and I knew I couldn't let you get away. I... um, I don't want to freak you out or anything, but..."

Gwen raises an eyebrow. "I think we both know that ship has sailed," she says, half-smiling.

"Ha," Arthur exhales a laugh. "Well, at the risk of completely overwhelming you, when I saw you, it... it kind of felt like I found a part of myself that was missing. It was missing and I didn't know it was gone until you smiled at me."

_Whoa._ "Um, wow. That's..."

"Sorry. I did warn you," he says, lifting her hand to his lips once more. "I should add that talking to you has only cemented this feeling. You're... you're very beautiful, Gwen. I don't just mean on the outside. I like how you look, but I like _you_, as well."

Gwen blushes at his praise and tries to ignore the increase in her heart rate. "But, you proposed before you found out anything about me," she finally says, cursing at how breathy her voice suddenly sounds.

"I was willing to go on a little faith," Arthur simply says, smiling. He reaches his free hand up to touch her cheek, realizes it may be too soon for such a move, and drops it.

Gwen is surprised when she feels disappointed. She blinks and shakes her head slightly, gathering her logic back together. "We don't even know each other," she says. A very valid argument, but it suddenly sounds really weak.

He grins and dismissively waves his hand. "Details. They're the easy part."

"You've done this before then?" she asks.

His face falls.

"I'm s—"

"No, I've never done anything like this before," he quietly answers. His lips curve up into a tentative smile, and he adds, "I do understand why you asked though."

She smiles back, then looks down at her hand, still held in his.

"I'm not an impulsive person at all, normally," Arthur continues. "I'm a barrister. We don't tend to have whims. At least, the ones at _my_ office don't."

"That explains a lot," Gwen answers, smiling. "I mean, about your perseverance. You do know how to present an argument."

"I— Merlin, this is Gwen," Arthur says, looking up at his approaching friend. "Gwen, this is Merlin."

"Hi," Merlin says, offering his hand. Arthur releases Gwen's hand so she can greet Merlin.

"Hello," Gwen answers. After a brief handshake, she places her hand in her lap. Arthur glances over at her hand, wishing she had returned it to him, but again, does not press the issue.

"Um, can I take your dog around the park? I mean, it looks like the two of you are going to be a while, and he looks a little bored, and God knows _I'm _a lot bored..." Merlin asks.

Gwen bites her lip, not sure if she should trust this strange man with her dog. "I don't know," she says, but Merlin is already on his knees, giving Tito chin rubs and ear scratches.

"Hello," Merlin says to the dog, "yes, who's a good boy?" He looks up at Gwen. "Wait. Boy?"  
"Boy. His name is Tito," Gwen confirms.

"Look. Here," Merlin stands and pulls his wallet out of his trouser pocket while Tito looks up adoringly at him, short tail wagging. "Insurance. If I don't bring him back, you get to keep my wallet." He holds it out towards Gwen.

"That's all right," she says, realizing the offer is enough for her.

"No, no, I insist," he presses, setting his wallet on the bench next to her. "You don't know me. There's not much money in it and I don't even have a drivers' license, but my Food Palace club card has to be worth something, right?"

Gwen laughs and hands Merlin Tito's leash. "If he, you know, _goes_, there are bags in the little cylinder," she said.

Merlin looks at the little plastic tube attached to the handle of the leash. "Brilliant. Have fun," he calls, already walking away.

"He likes dogs," Arthur explains. "And, your dog is pretty cool."

"Thanks," she says. She watches the thin, dark-haired man amble away with her dog for a few seconds, suddenly feeling awkward. Merlin had interrupted their flow.

Then, Arthur holds his hand out, offering it to her once again. He smiles broadly at her when she places her hand in it with less hesitation than the first time.

xXx

_ After Merlin left, I decided to go ahead and ask questions, as Arthur originally suggested. Really, what did I have to lose? I asked him everything I could think of. This is what I found out:_

_-Arthur Pendragon. Yes, the son of Uther Pendragon, notorious corporate lawyer. Works at Dad's practice._

_-26 years old._

_-Mother died of ovarian cancer when he was two._

_-Has more money than the Queen. I was surprised he so freely volunteered th_is_ information, but I guessed since he was trying to convince me to marry him, he would only benefit by telling me. Not that I'm interested in his money. Not that I was actually considering..._

_(All right. Yes, I was, damn him.)_

_-Best friend Merlin, who is in his final year of medical school, specializing in pediatrics._

_-One older sister, Morgana. Financial advisor. She's married to a man called Leon, and they have a son, Mordred._

_-Likes football._

_-Favorite food is steak._

_-Likes Indie Rock._

_-Wasn't working today because he'd taken the day off to relax after winning a case. Said it is his customary practice_.

_Then I asked him some harder questions._

_-Biggest pet peeve is thoughtlessness or rudeness. Like when someone doesn't give their seat to an elderly person on the bus, doesn't hold the door for someone, or is horrid to a person in the service industry who is only trying to do his or her job._

_-Happiest when he is allowed to be himself. Not Arthur Pendragon, barrister and son of Uther Pendragon. When he is allowed to relax and just be. He was a little nervous about telling me this, worried I wouldn't understand. I assured him I understood perfectly._

_-Angriest when his trust is betrayed. I didn't press, but I assume this must have happened to him at least once. If, one day, he wishes to tell me what happened, he will, but I'm not going to ask. Not for a while, anyway._

_-His fondest hope is that his mother is proud of him. Says he misses his mother every day and would give anything to be able to spend even an hour __with her, just to talk__. That about killed me. At least I got to spend time with and know my parents before they died._

_-He is quite fond of children ("They're hilarious," he said) and would one day like to have one or two. I was a little anxious about asking him this particular question, but, well, go big or go home, I guess. Amazingly, one or two children are what I've always envisioned having one day._

_ He asked me to answer all the same questions I__ had __asked him. He was actually impressed when I told him I gave up my posh job in R&D_ _at Albion Foods to be a baker. Said he's been to the bakery where I work and has probably eaten my creations. He asked me what kind of dog Tito i__s__ and responded that_ _he had never seen a corgi/golden retriever mix befor__e then__._

_ Interestingly, we have the same pet peeve, but he did enjoy learning that a close second for me is grammatical errors on signs. I told him apostrophes make me angry if they are out of place. He laughed, and I realized I liked his laugh. I liked _making_ him laugh._

_ Talking to him was really easy, and I found myself liking him. Genuinely liking him. I asked him what his dad would say about his little proposition. He shrugged, saying he was a grown man and his father has very little influence over his private life. Then, he added he was willing to risk his father's disapproval if I was willing to say yes._

_ That was pretty heavy._

_ The fact that my parents are dead made the decision a little easier, I will admit._

_ Elyan is going to kill me._

_ Gwaine is going to kill me._

_ I haven't told them yet._

_ But,_ _I did it..._

Arthur looks at Gwen. "Gwen. I don't do impulsive things. _You_ don't, either. So, why not do something impulsive for once, together? Throw caution to the wind, come with me to the courthouse, and we'll get married."

"Today?" she asks, her voice pitched a little higher than normal.

He nods. "It's only 2:15. We have two and three-quarter hours."

She hesitates, looking out over the park as if the answer was somewhere in the trees or playground. _Am I actually considering doing this? Today?_

"I'm sorry, I should have said I meant get married immediately," he sheepishly says. "I guess I figured it was implied."

"You don't walk around with rings in your pocket, do you?" she asks. Then, immediately, "Sorry. You already said you've never done this before."

"It's all right," he answers, his frown once again turning into that smile of his. "I should be the one apologizing. I'm asking impossible things from you, and you haven't slapped me or run off or anything, so I just keep at it. But, I promise I'm almost as surprised by this as you." His fingers drum against his knee, fidgeting.

"Almost?" Gwen asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. Like I said, this is a first for me, too. I didn't come to the park to shop for a wife," he explains. "But, then I saw you and this feeling just…" he lifts his free hand, palm-up, waving it slightly, as he tries to find the words, "came over me. You were _it_. The only woman I would ever want."

"Oh," she softly says, not knowing what to say. She has to admit he is winning her over. Winning her over pretty effectively. _Get a grip, Gwen._ "But, why today?"

"Why _not_ today? We have time. We'll get rings and still have time to get to the courthouse before five. Easy," he says, snapping his fingers to punctuate his sentence.

Gwen looks down at her feet, thinking. Looking at him is too distracting. _He makes it sound easy. Get rings, go to the courthouse, and Bob's your uncle._

_ Or, more accurately, Arthur's your husband._

"Say yes. Please." Arthur takes her hand between both of his, holding it gently.

She closes her eyes, thinking about how completely insane this is.

Insane, but... strangely appealing.

_He is sweet. Charming. Genuine. Confident without being cocky (well, not _too_ cocky). Handsome. I feel... comfortable with him. Not self-conscious or uneasy. Which is pretty significant, considering it usually takes me a little while to reach this level of comfort with someone_.

She opens her eyes and looks at him. He is waiting, his expression expectant. Hopeful.

_It feels bizarrely right._

He watches as she thinks, being patient, giving her time. _She is worth __the risk__. I know she is. She's the most wonderful person I've ever met, and I knew it as soon as I saw her._

"I won't push you to do anything... um,_ you kno__w..._ physical. I'll wait until you're ready," he softly says. "I promise."

Gwen melts a little, his sudden bashfulness making him sweetly endearing.

That's when she truly knows. She knows he means every word he has said.

"Yes."

Arthur smiles brightly, like a child on Christmas morning who has discovered a shiny red bicycle under the tree.

xXx

_ My phone just rang. It was Elyan. I didn't tell him. I don't know how I'm going to tell him. He doesn't need to know __right now. I did tell him I met someone. Not a lie. Not the full truth, but I did meet Arthur today._

_ Where was I? Oh,__yeah. I got my dog back from Merlin, who shook his head at both of us,__but didn't try to talk us out of it. Arthur walked with me back to my flat so I could let Tito inside and collect my purse. Need ID and all that._

_ Strangely, I didn't even consider any possible danger when I climbed into his (rather nice) car. He was inside my house, and I was perfectly comfortable with him being there, too. Interesting._

_ We chatted companionably the whole time. He's really easy to talk to__ and actually quite interesting.__ He's got all these great things: fancy job, posh name, privileged upbringing, but he seems to purposely ignore all those aspects of his life unless he must acknowledge them – like at work, where it is his job to be Mr. High and Mighty Barrister. He admitted that he initially went into law because of his father, but once he began his studies, he discovered he had quite a knack for, and actually enjoyed, it._

_ He likes video games. Likes sport. Typical male things, I guess. Doesn't cook, but likes to eat. He's very happy that I am a baker, he said._

_ He also said he likes animals (which I could tell from how he treated Tito), and has a huge soft spot for baby animals. However, he admitted he's a little afraid of birds. Says they make him nervous. He told me one tried to make a nest in his garage last spring and Merlin had to chase it out with a broom. Merlin has been sworn to secrecy, apparently._

_ I had to try really hard not to laugh and felt kind of bad about it. To make him feel better, I told him that I'm afraid of_ _centipedes and am claustrophobic_.

_ We bought rings. Well, he bought rings. He insisted. We just went with simple gold bands, but he told me if I wanted something fancy, he would be more than happy to make i__t__ happen. At any time._

_ I told him I rarely wear rings because they just get caked with dough. He laughed and said, "Perhaps a necklace then."_

_ The courthouse wasn't too busy. We did all the paperwork. Then, we sat in some uncomfortable chairs and waited. There was one other couple (did I really just say "other couple"?) ahead of us. She looked like their next stop would be the maternity __unit__. Seriously pregnant. Arthur and I realized we were both trying not to stare, and soon, we were giggling like conspiratorial idiots._

_ I got married in jeans. Gran would have been horrified._

_ I don't actually remember much of the wedding ceremony itself. It was short and simple._

_ What I do remember is the kiss. The judge said, "You may kiss the bride," and I realized we hadn't kissed yet. Not when I said yes, not when he bought the rings, not even just because we probably should have._

_ I remember hoping he was a good kisser..._

"You may kiss the bride."

Gwen looks up at Arthur, her eyes widening as realizations hits her.

Arthur holds his breath, trying to remember what he had for lunch. _Oh, God,_ _I hope it isn't something with a lot of garlic. Oh, God, I hope I don't disappoint her... her lips are seriously amazing._ His mind still reeling with random concerns, he swallows and slowly leans down towards her. The corner of his lips quirks up in a very slight smile.

Gwen's eyes drop to his lips, noticing how they are full yet masculine and wondering what they feel like.

His lips touch hers softly, in a kiss that could almost be called "chaste". Almost. Guinevere's fingers curl into his shirt and she feels her ears heat up. Her heart pounds in her chest.

Arthur starts pulling away, then groans almost inaudibly and presses forward, continuing to kiss her, still softly, but just... more. His arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as he begins to lose himself in her lips.

Gwen's hands slide up around his shoulders, her fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. Arthur doesn't try to deepen the kiss, but when he pulls away both Gwen and he are breathless, dazed and wanting more.

He gazes down at her, his arms still around her. His eyes are glazed and his pupils are huge.

"Wow," Gwen softly breathes. _Did I seriously just say "Wow"? I'm such a nerd._

Arthur smiles a little and nods in complete agreement. He doesn't have the words to describe how he's feeling at present, but "wow" covers it pretty well for now.

He bends down and kisses her one more time before they sign the paperwork.

It is nearly five by the time they exit the courthouse, so Arthur suggests going for an early dinner. "Anywhere you'd like to go, Guinevere," he says, taking her hand as they walk to the car.

She looks at him. "That's the third time now."

"Hmm?" he asks, opening the door.

"As soon as you learned my full name is Guinevere, you started using it," she says once he is inside.

"Oh, um... is that all right?" he asks. "I really like it. Guinevere. It suits you."

"It's all right," she quietly answers. "It... sounds different when you say it," she unthinkingly adds.

"Different?" he asks, angling his head at her.

"Good different," she answers. "No one has ever said it the way you do. It sounds kind of, um, sexy, and I can't believe I just said that out loud..." She puts her hands over her rapidly reddening face.

Arthur smiles and gently removes her hands. _She's so adorable._ "Don't be embarrassed," he says, his thumbs caressing her knuckles. "Would it help if I told you that I like how you say my name?"

"A little," Guinevere says.

"I have an old man's name," he continues, "and you make it sound good. I like hearing your voice say it."

"Oh," she answers, not knowing how to respond. "And, your middle name isn't any better, is it?"

They had learned one another's middle names when filling out paperwork. Guinevere's is Anna; Arthur's is Reginald.

"Definitely not," he says, making a face. "It was my grandfather's name. So, it really _is_ an old man's name." Guinevere laughs, and Arthur smiles. "I like your laugh."

"I like yours, too," she answers. "We're still sitting in the car park."

"That's because you haven't told me where you want to go eat, _Guinevere,_" he says, purposely emphasizing her name.

"Oh. Right. Um, do you like Shogun, _Arthur_?" she asks.

"Never been there," he answers.

"Oh, we are _so_ going then." She smiles.

xXx

_ I couldn't believe he'd never been out for hibachi. I had him try edamame and gyoza and he loved them both. In fact, he loved everything. I insisted he get the fried rice when he started to order white rice with his meal. Our chef was really good, too. He threw his knives around and set the grill on fire and made the little volcano out of onions and everything. He tossed pieces of chicken from his spatula to each of us. Arthur caught his. I didn't; it bounced off my chin and hit the floor._

_ Arthur ate my zucchini and mushrooms. I ate his carrots and broccoli._

_ We had fun. He's a good date, if nothing else._

_ I ate too much and am so full right now._

_ We're still trying to work out living arrangements, but apparently he has a house. Like, a real house. So, I'll probably end up moving there because it would have to be a lot bigger than my place. If this works out. Even so, I have until the end of the month to let my landlord know I'm moving. If I move_.

_ He's there right now. I'm here. He's coming back here tonight._

_ That was an awkward conversation. He dropped me off because of Tito. He said he'd run home and grab some things and come back. So, I'm writin__g__ this while I'm waiting. He's taking longer than I thought he would (he actually lives just on the other side of the park, he said), and for some reason, it's making me nervous. It's getting late (for me, anyway). He knows I need to go to bed by eight because I get up at three, and it's already 7:30._

_ Why am I nervous? What's the worst thing that could happen if he just married me and then took off? I don't have anything from which he could gain by doing so. He told me who his father is, and I'm sure it would only take a phone call to find him. I've got the marriage documents here, too._

_ Am I seriously nervous because I really want him to come back? Because I miss him? This is silliness. I met him early this afternoon and married him less than three hours later._

_ Oh. He's here._

_xXx_

_ He took longer because he stopped and got me flowers. Said_ _something about it being our wedding day, and the bride should have flowers._ _ I kissed him when I thanked him, but wasn't brave enough to kiss more. I want to though. Maybe tomorrow._

_ He's really very sweet. Part of me wonders how long it will last._

_ Another part of me is telling that part to shut its damn pie hol__e__._

_ I need to go to bed. I told him he didn't have to join me, but if he did, he could watch TV. I fall asleep with the TV on most of the time. He smiled, so I guess he'll be joining me._

_ I didn't even bother offering the couch. Technically, he is_ _my husband, so let's do this. Even though we're not doing _that_. Yet._

_ Not allowing my mind to go there right now. But... if he makes love anything close to how he kisses..._

_ Stop._

_ This is going to be strange. I haven't shared a bed with anyone in about a year. And,_ _Arthur is nothing like Will._

_ Which i__s__ a good thing._

_ Will I even be able to sleep next to this almost-total stranger?_

_ Oddly, I think I will._

_ This might work. On the other hand, it may be a complete bloody disaster._

_ But, like Arthur said, why not do something impulsive for once?_

_ The worst that can happen is it doesn't end up working and we get a divorce._

_ Or, he stabs me in my sleep. One of the two._


	2. Chapter 2

_9 May_

_ So, this has been an interesting morning. I'd forgotten what it felt like to wake up in someone's arms._

_ And, that is definitely not where I fell asleep. I was on my own side of the bed. Arthur was sitting up, quietly watching TV, and I fell asleep on my side, with my back to him._

_ Okay, I laid there on my side, with my back to him for a long time, pretending I was asleep, but really I was too freaked out/frazzled/nervous/excited to fall asleep easily._

_ I married a man I had just met. On a flipping whim. Okay, maybe "whim" isn't quite the right w__ord for it. He was very persuasive, yes, but I generally won't do things if I don't want to do them. __Even so, what the hell is wrong with me? I half-expected the ghost of my mother to visit me in my dreams, peering at me __over the top of her glasses__, giving me that _Mom_ look. "Guinevere, I'm disappointed in you."_

_ Worst. Words. Ever_.

_ Elyan is going to lose his shit. Glad he's not in town right now._

_ I've lost my mind._

_ But, instead of dreams involving various disappointed relatives, the only dream I remember involved Arthur and his lips. And his hands. (Have I mentioned his hands? I think I have. They're gorgeous in a totally male way. Large and just rough enough to give a girl Thoughts.)_

_ And maybe a few other parts as well. The memory is kind of vague. Probably safer that way._

_ Anyway, I woke up on my other side, my head pillowed on his shoulder and his arms around me. It was remarkably comfortable and 3 a.m. comes_ very_ earl__y__._

_ My alarm didn't seem to disturb him, but I kind of had to wrestle my way out of the bed. He didn't want to let go of me._

_ Kind of nice, I guess._

_ I left a note telling him to help himself to anything in the kitchen for breakfast, I've put a clean towel out for him in the bathroom, and I was done with work at noon. I also gave him my mobile number and anchored the__ note with__a spare key to my flat._

_ So he could lock the door. Obviousl__y…_

Arthur arrives at the bakery at 8:40. Guinevere is in the back, scooping out cookies when she hears Elena talking to someone. She quickly recognizes the other voice.

_He came here to see me? He came here to see me!_ The question quickly turns into an excited realization, and she is struck by how much she wants to see him. Surprised by her excitement, she quickly sets her scoop down and wipes her hands on a nearby towel.

Then, the timer goes off. She sighs and moves to pull the last of the breads out of the oven.

_Stupid bread._

Guinevere scurries to the door, but stops short just before she reaches it, not wanting to look as eager as she feels. _Be cool. He does__n__'t need to know how big a dork you are just yet._ She takes a deep breath and calmly pushes the door open. She pauses halfway, standing on the threshold.

Elena, the cashier, is giggling at something Arthur must have said, leaning over the counter a little _too_ far, and brazenly staring at him.

Guinevere purses her lips, jealousy creeping over her. Elena is her friend, but she doesn't like the way she's looking at Arthur. _Step off, Girl, h__e__'s my husband._

_He__ i__s__ my _husband.

Then, she notices Arthur hasn't been paying the least bit of attention to Elena. He's barely even looking at the blonde woman, his eyes scanning the small shop. If he hadn't told her otherwise, she would have thought he'd never been here by the way he was taking everything in.

Then, his eyes land on Guinevere, and he lights up like a Christmas tree. She smiles and feels the now-familiar wobble in her stomach, realizing he wasn't looking around, he was looking for_ he__r._

Her smile falters slightly when she recalls how she must look. _I look like ever-loving hel__l__. I'm covered in a light coating of flour, hair tied back with a scarf, big white apron, sensible shoes._

_ The picture of glamour and elegance._

"Guinevere," Arthur says, still smiling, taking her in. If he is put off by her appearance, he gives no indication of it, abandoning his conversation with Elena to step over to the end of the counter to meet his wife.

Guinevere steps out, noting his tailored suit and expensive shoes. _He looks _really_ good in a suit. He looked good yesterday in cargo pants and a t-shirt. But,_ _this man can _wear_ a suit._

She glances over, sees Elena frowning and looking _very_ confused, and knows she's going to have some serious explaining to do later.

"Hey," she says as she smiles, his presence bringing it forth unbidden. He reaches for her, and she holds up her hands. "I'm covered in flour and stuff," she says. "I don't want to get your suit dirty."

He simply shrugs and moves his hands, gently framing her face as he leans down to kiss her. "I missed you this morning," he whispers.

She places her hands over his. "You didn't want to let me out of bed," she blurts. "I mean, I missed you, too."

He simply smiles, which doesn't help cool the blush she feels in her cheeks.

"You're done at noon?" he asks, dropping his hands, but not before wiping a spot of flour from her forehead.

"Yes. Usually I just go home, eat lunch, take a nap for a bit, and then shower," she explains.

"Will you have lunch with me?" he asks. "I don't want to upset your routine, b—"

"I would love to have lunch with you. As long as we don't go someplace posh. Because I'll still look like I've been wrestling with a bag of flour." She gestured to herself, indicating her appearance.

"You look beautiful, Guinevere," he says, chuckling. _She does. Even with the shapeless apron and scarf on her head, she is still the most beautiful woman in my eyes._

Guinevere looks up into his blue-gray eyes and knows he truly means what he has said. "Thank you," she whispers.

He leans down and kisses her lips quickly, but softly. "A food truck parks near my office. I thought we'd get something there and eat outside, now that it's finally nice out."

"I love eating outside," she says. His smile grows larger and her heartbeat speeds up.

She reaches up to tuck a lock of hair back into her scarf, and he grabs her hand, inspecting it. It's her left hand.

"It's around my neck," she explains, pointing to a slender chain just above her collar with her free hand. "I did warn you," she adds.

"Yes, you did," he says with a smile, moving his hand to touch the chain.

She softly gasps at the feel of his fingers on the sensitive skin of her neck. She expects him to lift the chain and check for the ring, but he merely traces a segment of it. Goosebumps erupt down the left side of her body.

"I'm glad you stopped in," she says in a low voice.

"I came to see you, but I also came for some breakfast," he informs.

"You didn't eat?"

"I did. This will be second breakfast," he says.

"What are you, a Hobbit?" she asks, grinning. He laughs, and her grin widens.

"Some days it feels that way," he admits. "Maybe I'll get something to bring to the office and share."

"I bet your coworkers would like that," she says. "Hey, um, Tito didn't give you any trouble this morning, did he?"

"No, not at all. He seemed pretty cool with me being there. I made sure to take him outside right before I left."

"Thank you," she says. "He probably likes you because of all the attention you gave him yesterday."

"Well, I must have the dog's approval, of course," he says, walking slowly around the bakery, deciding what to purchase.

Arthur buys a dozen assorted bagels to take to the office with him. He pays, then pulls a business card out of his wallet, writes his mobile number on the back. "So you know where my office is," he explains, tucking it in the pocket of Guinevere's apron. He kisses her, then says, "My mobile number is on the back. Call me when you are on your way?"

"Yes, I will," she answers, acutely aware that Elena is now openly watching and listening to everything, as they haven't moved away from the register. "Oh! Arthur, this is Elena, sorry," she decides to introduce them and get it done. "Elena, this is Arthur."

"Hello," Arthur greets, "do you bake as well, or...?"

"Hi," Elena answers. "No, I just work here, selling whatever Gwen or Isolde has decided to bake. Isolde's the other baker. She's only part time though."

"Ah. Nice to meet you," he says, then looks at his watch.

"You, too," Elena says.

"You're not going to be late, are you?" Guinevere asks, hoping she hasn't delayed him.

"No, I'll be fine. Besides, I have baked goods. Free pass." He grins, holding the box aloft. "One more for the road," he adds, leaning towards her again.

This kiss is a little longer, a little softer, a little _more_ than the others. "See you at lunch," she quietly says.

"Can't wait," he answers. He pecks her lips once more, then turns, glancing back at her one more time before exiting.

Guinevere starts to head back to the kitchen, hoping to evade an interrogation, but Elena is hot on her heels.

"Gwen…" she says, following her back, her expression incredulous. "_Gwen_," she insists. "He had a wedding ring on."

"Didn't stop you from flirting with him," Gwen calmly states.

"I didn't see his left hand until he was holding your face and _kissing_ you," Elena replies. Then, her eyes widen. "Are you having an affair with a married man?"

"Um, no, actually," Gwen says. "He _is_ married, but I'm his wife." She reaches into her shirt and pulls the ring out to show her friend. "We… kind of got married yesterday."

"Oh, my God! I didn't even know you were seeing someone!" Elena yells, hugging Gwen so exuberantly she staggers.

"Well," Gwen starts, not sure how to reveal the truth. _It's simply too weir__d__._ "Um, we'd been keeping things quiet..." The chime on the door sounds, saving Gwen from having to explain, no matter how clumsily. Elena huffs in frustration and returns to the front.

_I didn't want to lie, really. I just... I don't know how to explain my actions to other people when I don't fully understand them myself._

_ Later, she did ask me what my new last name was. I told her I haven't decided if I'm going to take his name or not._

_ Because honestly, I don't know. I haven't even had time to think about it._

_xXx_

_ Lunch was good. His office is very nice. He apologized for his father not being there (I guess he's out of town or something), but I was completely fine with not meeting him just yet._

_ I mean, really: "Hey, Dad, this is Guinevere. By the way, we got married yesterday, so she's actually your daughter-in-law. Pay no attention to the chocolate stain on her shirt or the fact that she smells like a loaf of bread."_

_ Hell of a first impression._

_ I will say I was rather surprised he wanted me to meet his father so soon. _We_ just met yesterday._

_ Of course, there's absolutely nothing normal about what we're doing._

_ While we were having lunch, Gwaine texted me. Relentlessly. I was ignoring him, but Arthur finally told me to go ahead and check._..

"It's my friend Gwaine," Guinevere says.

"Gwaine? What kind of name is that?" Arthur asks, brows furrowing.

"A family name. He hates it, but is dashing enough to make it work," she absently says, talking as she texts. "I'll call him later."

"Hmm. Dashing?" he asks.

She looks up, realizing her words could be misinterpreted. "Obviously, _I_ don't think he's dashing. Um, we grew up together. He's more like a cousin."

"Oh, okay," he says. He pops the last of his sandwich into his mouth. "What does he look like?" he asks after he swallows.

She pulls up a photo on her mobile and shows it to him.

He looks, trying to hide his frown behind his bottle of water. "He's handsome. I guess. If you like shiny, flowing hair and almost-perfect features." He looks at the photo again. "Nose is a bit big though…" he adds, obviously looking for a flaw. "Is he gay?"

"No, but you're not the first person to ask that," she answers, clearing the photo from her screen. "Do you want the rest of my sandwich?" she asks. "I'm full."

"Sure, thanks," he says, and she hands him the last quarter of her turkey and ham with provolone cheese.

"Gwaine is actually kind of a man-whore, to be completely honest. But, I have been immune to his charms thus far, and do not see that changing at any time." Sensing he needs reassurance, she puts her hand over his. He turns his hand and twines their fingers together for a moment. "I still remember when he was a dorky 10-year-old with knobby knees and a chest like a bird cage. Glasses. Braces. The whole routine we all went through trying to make ourselves into proper human beings. And, there's the whole thinking-of-him-like-family thing, too. So, no. Ew."

Arthur laughs, feeling better.

Guinevere realizes she kind of likes that he was a little jealous. She also remembers she should probably delete the shirtless photo of Gwaine she took last summer at the beach.

Puberty was kind to Gwaine.

"I had braces," Arthur volunteers.

"I had this hair," Guinevere points to her head. The scarf is gone, but it is still pulled back in a braid. "And these stupid freckles. Which I still have," she adds with a shrug.

"I love your hair," he says, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "And, your freckles are wonderful." He skims his thumb over her cheekbone, then leans over and kisses her nose.

She smiles and closes her eyes at the touch. "My hair was a frizzy mess most of the time until I learned how to bend it to my will."

"I bet it wasn't," he argues.

"I'll show you photos sometime," she insists. "Or not, actually..."

"Oh, no, I've got to see them now," he laughs. "I'll reciprocate, I promise."

"Naked baby pictures?" she teases.

"Well, if you want to see me naked, you know all you have to do is..."

Guinevere chokes on her water. _Well, that backfired. All it did wa__s__ put sudden, wayward thoughts into my brain. Wayward thoughts about my _husband_, darn it all._

"Are you all right?" Arthur asks, patting her back.

"Yeah," she answers, her voice a little hoarse from coughing. "You just... caught me off guard."

"Sorry, that was bad timing, wasn't it?" he says, smiling sheepishly, now rubbing soft circles on her back.

"It's all right. I'm good," she says, nodding.

"Hey, um, do you work on the weekends?" he asks.

"No, I don't. Isolde does the weekends. She also covers for me if I take a day off or fall ill," she answers.

He smiles. "Good. I'm glad."

"Yeah, it's bad enough having to go to bed so early during the week. I'd hate to have to do it on the weekends, too," she agrees.

"So..." he begins, pausing a moment, "would you like to see my house tomorrow? To... to see what you think. If you'd want to, you know, live there. See if Tito likes it, too." He watches her, his eyes unblinking, fingers picking at the label of his water bottle.

"I'd like that," she softly answers. "It makes the most sense, of course. You have a house, so why not live there, right?" she adds, feeling both excited and anxious about this prospect.

Arthur visibly relaxes, and Guinevere realizes he was nervous about asking her.

"Your flat is very nice," he says, not wanting her to think he doesn't like her place.

"Yes, but it's a rental. You have a proper house."

"Yes. I... thought it was a good investment. Plus, I wanted something of my own, you know?"

She nods, understanding. "I would very much like to see it. Does it have a large garden?"

He smiles and nods. "Tito will love it." Then, he glances at his watch and frowns.

"You need to get back," she says. He nods. "I need a nap, anyway," she adds, smiling.

"I'd like a nap," he sighs, thinking back to last night, at how she unexpectedly turned and cuddled against him after he turned off the television. He scooted down under the covers, trying not to disturb her, but then she rolled and settled in against him. He happily wrapped his arms around her and fell into a contented sleep.

A small smile escapes as she remembers how she awoke this morning, with him curled around her, all warm and cozy.

"I liked having lunch with you," Arthur says as he walks her to her car. "Very much," he adds.

"Me, too," Guinevere quietly agrees, noting his voice has again taken on that gentle tone it sometimes gets. It's the same one he uses when he says her name. And when he told her she looked beautiful this morning.

"You know... we could probably have lunch together a lot," he suggests. "Nice car."

"Thanks, it's old, but it gets me where I need to go," she says, glancing at it. "And, yes, we could."

"I don't want to push and say every day, but... well, to be honest _every_ day isn't possible because sometimes I have meetings or court..."  
"When we can then," she suggests, looking up at him. He's standing very close and his proximity is making it difficult to think.

"Not every day, but... most days," he says, taking both her hands in his. Then, he leans down to kiss her.

Guinevere impulsively decides to get a little brave, and parts her lips slightly to allow her tongue to slip forward and graze his upper lip. Just a bit.

When they separate, Arthur has a wonderfully dazed, perplexed look on his face that makes her want to do it again. To do _more._

Instead, she mutters, "Have a good afternoon," and ducks into her car, wondering if she chickened out because, if she hadn't, they might have wound up having a full-on snog in the car park.

xXx

_ I called Gwaine after my nap and shower. Put it off as long as I could._

_ I don't think I've ever heard him laugh quite so hard. Then, when he realized I was serious, he laughed harder._

_ I told him to shut up._

_ When he stopped laughing, he grilled me with questions. I couldn't answer them all. He wanted to make sure Arthur didn't have any diseases or a criminal record or anything. I told him I knew he was disease-free (I had asked), and added that since Arthur was, in fact, a lawyer, the likelihood of him having a criminal record was low._

_ He pointed out that being a lawyer did not guarantee he wasn't a criminal, and it probably just meant he knew how to work the system. I told him to shut up and that Arthur was not a serial killer or anything._

_ He wanted to know how I knew that. I couldn't answer him. I had to settle on, "You'll have to meet him to understand."_

_ I told him everything I could think of about Arthur, trying to convince him, even though I knew he was mostly just screwing with me..._

"I'm going to do some investigating anyway," Gwaine declares.

"And, how do you propose to do that? You work at the zoo. You talk to apes all day," Gwen counters.

"Hey, my apes are more human than most humans I know," he answers, offended.

"And," she presses, "the only investigating you do involves the insides of girls' knickers."

"Hang on, now... oh, wait, yes, I suppose that bit is true..." he allows, chuckling. "Gwen. Seriously, if you need anything, if it turns south for any reason, call me."

"Thank you, Gwaine," she says, knowing this is the _real_ him, the one only she sees. He doesn't do serious much. He saves it for special occasions. "I don't think it will come to that, but I appreciate you looking out for me."

"Well, someone has to, what with El being on tour again and all," he says.

"Yeah, because he was always _so_ good at it," she sighs. Gwen loves her older brother, and he did try, especially after Mum died. _But, he's a musician, and "musician" and "responsibility" don't always go hand in hand. Doesn't mean he's not going to flip out about this though._

"Maybe you are being a bit too hard on him," Gwaine comments.

"Maybe," she allows. "I don't know. We haven't really been close since Mum and Dad died."

"Yeah, that was a pretty rough time," he answers, remembering it all too well. He clears his throat and continues. "Listen, Gwen, if you're happy, if this sudden marriage is what you want, I'm good. Really. It's completely mad and not like you at all, but... I hope it works out."

"Thanks, Gwaine. I do, too. I... I really do like him."

"I can tell." He pauses. "May have to try that line sometime..."

"Gwaine! It wasn't a line!"

"Well, it's a hell of a conversation-starter," he says, chuckling devilishly. "Hey..."

"What?" she warily asks, having a fairly good idea what the next question is going to be.

"You lot having it off?"

Gwen sighs. Loudly. "_Not that it's any of your business,_ you twat, but no. Not yet. He said he wouldn't press for it and was content to wait until I was ready. We did sleep together – _sleep_ – last night."

Gwaine dramatically yawns. "Boring..." he sings.

"I have to go. I have to make dinner for my _husband._"

"Greet him at the door wearing an apron and nothing else."  
"Shut up." Gwen disconnects the call and thinks about what to fix for Arthur. She remembers him saying he likes steak, and she stands, grabbing her purse and keys.

xXx

_ Arthur was surprised I cooked dinner for him. I asked him why, and he stared a minute, then admitted he didn't know why. He also told me he had been thinking of taking me out, but forgot to ask about it at lunch._

_ I simply told him I wanted to cook for him, and that he had already taken me out last night._

_ You know, after we got married._

_ Thankfully, he loved the meal. He even admitted to not generally liking cooked carrots, but he liked my vanilla glazed carrots. I told him I had noticed his hesitation, then felt really dumb when I remembered he gave me all of his carrots at Shogun last night._

_ He wasn't offended that I didn't r__ecall it__. "We're still learning," he said, taking my hand. "We'll have to remind each other for a little while." I smiled and he added, "Please remember that when I inevitably bollocks something up."_

_ Sometimes, I wonder if he's even real._

_ Sometimes, I wonder what it is about me that he found so compelling._

_ Sometimes, I wonder if I'm going to wake up and discover I've been in a coma and this is some sort of bizarre dream._

_ Sometimes, I wonder why my brain just won't shut up and let me enjoy this. Whatever this is._

_ After dinner, we watched some telly. We sat on the couch together, and I felt like I was 16, wanting him to put his arm around me. Or something._

_ Then, I remembered I was in charge of this particular aspect of our unusual marria__ge for now__. But, I didn't know what to do. It struck me that this must be how a bloke feels__with a girl most of the time, and I almost laughed._

_ I considered my options:_

_1. Attack. Pro: It's direct and leaves no room for interpretation. Con: Potentially scary for both of us. Especially me._

_2. Discuss. I could ask him, "May I kiss you?" Pro: Makes intentions very clear and is polite. Con: He might say no._

_3. Make some Moves. Pro: He might find it amusing or charming. Con: Corny as hell._

_ I chose option three. Because I'm a giant dork and he's going to find me out eventually._

_ I scooted closer to him. He didn't react, so I scooted even closer. He glanced ove__r at me__._

_ I crossed my legs, brushing his calf with my foot. His lips twitched._

_ Then, I did the old yawn-and-stretch move in an attempt to put my arm around him._

_ It didn't work very well because of the size difference. __He's not a giant person, but there's enough of a difference that my arm doesn't actually fit around his shoulder very smoothly..._

"Guinevere, are you attempting to put the moves on me?" Arthur asks, looking highly amused.

"That depends. Is it working?" Guinevere shyly answers.

Instead of answering, he tips her chin up with his finger and kisses her. "All afternoon I was thinking about the kiss you gave me after lunch," he murmurs, his lips hovering, almost touching hers.

She grins and unthinkingly retorts, "That was nothing."

His jaw drops and he blinks, momentarily rendered speechless. He clears his throat. "Oh?" he asks, the break in his voice belying the nonchalance he is attempting to feign.

Then, he removes himself, leaning back against the couch. "Impress me," he declares.

She regards him a moment. _Arrogant. But, kind of sexy._

Then, he laces his fingers behind his head, looking even smugger.

_ Kind of. Right._

_ So, option one then._

Before Guinevere can talk herself out of it, she straddles his lap and just _claims_ his lips.

Arthur's hands are on her back in an instant, pulling her closer, fingers splaying.

"Guinevere," he gasps, moving them suddenly so he is over her, kissing her with abandon, like a starving man at a feast.

She matches his ardor with her own, her tongue meeting his thrust for thrust, her fingers in his hair, grasping his shoulders, sliding down his back.

He moves, kissing her jaw, her neck, and she tilts her head back against the pillow to make it easier for him to reach. His lips are soft and purposeful, as if he knows exactly where to go to make her gasp and sigh.

He returns to her lips, pecks them once, and she opens her eyes.

"I _am_ impressed," he says, grinning. "Impressed and happy. How did I get so lucky?" he softly asks, gently running his nose along the length of hers.

"Merlin threw a frisbee," she answers, nuzzling him back, then kissing him.

They quickly lose themselves in each other again, kissing and lightly exploring each other until, by some unspoken agreement, they finish, tapering off in a series of small, sweet kisses.

_ I haven't had a make-out session like that in years. Looking back, it's silly. We're grown adults, acting like a pair of teenagers._

_ He's a really good kisser._

_ But, I don't want to just fall into bed with him (fall into bed that way, I mean). Wife or no._

_ It means a lot to me that while he pressed me to marry him, he hasn't pressed me to do anything else._

_ He respects me._

_ This cannot be ignored._

_ He's also waiting for me, so I should probably go to bed._


	3. Chapter 3

_10 May_

_ We stayed up late talking. And snogging. And talking. And cuddling (he informed me that he's a bit of a cuddler) while we talked even more. And snogged a little more_.

_ I briefly entertained_ _thoughts of going further._

_ Well, I may or may not have let his hands wander._

_ Okay, I __did__. I may have encouraged it, actually. You know, a bit. But, over the clothes, not under._

_ He knows what he's doing._

_ Bloody hell, does he ever._

_ I had also forgotten what it feels like to wake up with an erection pressed against my bum. He was spooned behind me and he shifted, pressing against me._

_ Then, he let out a very quiet groan, and stilled. His fingers on my stomach twitched a little. I realized my shirt was pushed up slightly and his hand was on my bare skin. I also realized I liked the feel of it. Very much._

_ I pretended to be asleep. I wasn't sure what I should do. My first impulse was to press my hips back against him and encourage his hand to move higher._

_ But, I wasn't brave enough. Not yet._

_ Plus, it was only 7:15._

_ Plus, morning breath._

_ Plus, he chose that moment to whisper, "Shit," place a soft kiss on the side of my neck (whimper),_ _and get out of bed. He even quietly called Tito, getting him to follow him out._

_ I tried not to peek. I really did. I couldn't actuall__y__ see anything apart from some tented sleep shorts, but I saw enough._

_ Um, yeah. Trying not to keep thinking about that._

_ Just before I drifted back to sleep, I heard the shower turn on._

_ When I finally got up an hour and a half later (I'm terrible, I know), Arthur had made himself quite comfortable on the couch with my dog, watching sport highlights..._

"Good morning, Beautiful," Arthur greets Guinevere, smiling.

"Hi," she answers, perching on the arm of the couch. "Sorry I slept so late," she says, reaching back and pulling the elastic from her braid. She starts threading her fingers into her hair, undoing it while they chat.

"It's fine, really," he says, watching her with interest. "Completely understandable. Though, you know they say you should keep to the same sleep pattern even on the weekends."

"I'm well aware," she remarks, grinning. "Don't care."

"Yes, well, I suppose it is a bit inconvenient with a schedule like y..." he trails off, distracted by the sight before him. _I haven't yet__ seen her like this__._

Guinevere runs her fingers through her hair a final time and drops her arms, noticing Arthur's stare. "What?" she asks, turning to look behind her, wondering what has distracted him.

"I've never seen your hair down," he quietly says. "It's amazing."

Her head swivels back. "Oh. Um, thank you," she quietly says, her cheeks growing warm under his appreciative gaze.

"I know you don't think it is," he chuckles. "But, I like it."

"I'm glad," she answers, at a loss for words. _I am 100% sure it looks a mess._ "Um, I'll just get ready and then we can go check out your house," she says, changing the subject. "I mean, _you_ obviously don't need to check it out... it's your house and everything... but..."

"I knew what you meant," he says with a smile, endeared by her rambling. "Take your time."

She starts back to the bedroom, then pauses. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet. Was waiting for you," he says. "Just made some tea."

"Oh," she says, smiling, pleased that he waited to have breakfast with her.

"Go get ready. I'll make us some eggs and toast. Hang on, do you like eggs? I mean, I can't cook much, but I can do eggs."

"Scrambled, please," she says with a smile.

xXx

_ I was expecting a grand estate, I guess. Rich bloke like him, why not go for the huge manor house straight away, right?_

_ His house i__s__ large, but it isn'__t__ Buckingham Palace. It i__s __actually quite charming. Just far enough away from the city to feel like you're not in __it__, on a quiet street lined with trees._

_ Charming, b__ut__ with four bedrooms and a three-car garage. And a large garden that he apparently has no idea how to deal with_ _apart from mowing the lawn. I could see overgrown shrubs and what appea__red__ to be the beginnings of some flowers here and there. A few tulips trying their hardest..._

"This is very nice," Guinevere says, looking around. "Hey. Chill," she admonishes her dog, who is pulling on his leash, eager to sniff everything in sight.

"Thank you," Arthur answers. "It's a bit big for only me," he adds, grinning.

"Tito seems to like it," she says, looking down at her impatient dog.

"Back garden is completely fenced in, you know."

"Really?" she asks. "He'll love that."

"Do you want to see it first, or...?"

"No, let's go inside," she says, a smile pulling at her face as well.

They walk to the front door, and he pauses. "I usually use the side entrance, but this is a special occasion," he says, unlocking the door. He opens it, but stops her from entering. "Wait. I need to do this properly."

"What? Oh!" She yelps in surprise as he picks her up with surprising ease and carries her inside. Tito's leash is still dangling from her hand, and the little dog excitedly trots in beside them.

Arthur gently sets Guinevere on her feet and kisses her. "There," he softly declares, as if the action of carrying her across the threshold has somehow made everything official.

They stand in the foyer, his arms around her, her hand resting on his chest, staring into one another's eyes. He leans down again for another, longer, kiss, lips parted, tongues sliding familiarly against each other. She drops the leash and slides her arms up to his shoulders while Tito idly wanders around their feet, dragging his lead behind him as he sniffs at the throw rug.

"Goodness," Guinevere breathes after they part.

Arthur nods in agreement. "I suppose I should show you the rest of the house," he says, reaching up to brush a few stray curls from her face.

She left her hair down because he likes it loose and free.

"That would be nice," she says. She gently pulls away, calls Tito over, unhooks the leash from his collar, and sets it on a small side table located beside the front door.

Arthur gestures forward with his hand, and she walks into the house, looking around.

"How long have you lived here?" she asks.

"Um, just over a year," he answers.

_His house is practically empty._ "A whole year?" she asks, sounding a little more shocked than she intended. "Don't get me wrong, I love the house. You've just really embraced the... minimalist decorating style..."

He laughs. "You don't need to sugarcoat it, Guinevere. It's empty as hell, I know. I moved directly from my father's house and didn't get much new furniture. Just not a priority."

"Yes, I can see exactly what your priority is," she teases, gesturing to the entertainment system featuring a very large, top-of-the-line television on the wall.

"Excellent for watching footy," he explains. She nods and keeps moving, making mental notes.

xXx

_Sitting room: two recliners, an end table with a lamp, and the entertainment system._

_ Dining room: empty._

_ Kitchen: one very small bistro table, but high-end, stainless steel appliances. His oven is the stuff of which dreams are made._

_ My dreams, anyway._

_ Parlor: also empty._

_ Study: a desk, a chair, and a laptop._

_ Sun room in the back of the house: glorious and large, with one chaise lounge that should really be outside._

_ Upstairs, two of the bedrooms are completely empty. The third has a few boxes and some sporting equipment._

_ Guest bathroom has one hand towel and a roll of toilet tissue. I didn't check the downstairs loo, but assume it is much the same._

_ His bedroom is the most complet__ely furnished__. King-sized bed with an actual frame and headboard. Proper bed linens (red, not surprisingly. He seems to like red). Dressers and wardrobe that coordinate with the bed. Both sides have a nightstand. Another telly, significantly smaller than the one downstairs. Appears to be about the same size as the one in my living room. Walk-in closet which is bigger than the bathroom in my flat. En suite bath is clean,_ _but has mismatched everything._

_ His house is lovely, clean, and criminally empty. The walls are bare except for his diplomas from University and Law School in the study. There i__s__ a small family photo on a dresser in his bedroom that I didn't get a very good look at, but I think it must have been the last one__ taken __before his mum died. I saw a dark-haired man, a blonde woman, an older toddler girl,_ _and a smaller toddler boy._

_ I _love_ the house. I _want_ to live there. It was crying out for me to come and make it into a home._

_ A home for us._

_ I was already mentally picking out paint colors and deciding which pieces of my furniture would look best where. I also realized that adding my furniture still wouldn't fill the house._

_ And, Tito was a good boy. He didn't pee on anything. He ran around the empty rooms. He tried to jump on Arthur's bed, but it was too high for his stumpy littl__e__ legs to manage._

_ When we finally went out into the back garden, he tore around like crazy, running around and around, sniffing everything, peeing in strategic locations the significance of which are known only to him._

_ The entire exterior desperately needs landscaping. I desperately want to landscape it._

_ I love flowers and gardening. I was plotting a vegetable garden in my head when Arthur asked The Question..._

"Well?"

"Hmm?"

"Do… do you like my house?" Arthur shyly asks.

Guinevere smiles. "I love it, Arthur," she answers. "Um, I'm already decorating it in my head," she adds, somehow knowing he would like to hear it.

"Really?" he asks, his blue eyes lighting up. "So… you'll live here with me?" He watches her anxiously, holding his breath as he waits for her answer. _She looks so lovely standing here in the sunlight, amongst my rather sparse flowers. Please say yes._

She smiles at him, wondering if anyone else gets to see this sweet side of him and realizing she hopes not. _He is really much too adorable for words. How is it he was still single before Thursday_?

She steps over and kisses him, winding her arms around his neck as his hands rest on her waist. "I _am_ your wife, am I not?"

He smiles brightly, and she realizes it's not just the house that makes her want to live here. It's him. It's the prospect of making a home with someone. With _him._ She can't explain it, and is still anxious about telling her brother, but she feels at home here.

_I just need to find the words to explain it to Elyan. __ Surely,_ _he'll understand. Hopefully. Eventually?_

Then, Arthur wraps his arms around her, pulling her close, and Guinevere rests her head on his chest, just enjoying the moment. Trying to push the worries aside. For now.

xXx

_ We spent much of the day moving things ove__r to the house__. Just basic necessities right now, as we didn't want to rent a van or anything. So, clothes. Toiletries. Tito's things. Once we got his food bowl, toys,_ _and bed in, he settled down and we actually started leaving him there alone while we ran back to my flat._

_ We went to the market after we consolidated our food. And by "consolidated" I mean "brought my food over to his kitchen, thus adding actual edible food to his kitchen". Arthur bought some treats for Tito to further cement his loyalty._

_ It wasn't necessary. Goofy dog loves him alread__y__._

_ We went out to eat dinner. Didn't go anywhere __fancy, just a diner. They serve breakfast all day, so I had a combo platter of a pecan Belgian waffle, eggs, and sausages. I love breakfast for dinner. Arthur had half a_ _rotisserie chicken._

_ Being away from the house, no longer bustling back and forth,__ had __allowed reality to start creeping in again. He noticed..._

"Are you all right, Guinevere?" Arthur asks.

Guinevere looks up at him. "We just moved a sizable chunk of my stuff into your house," she plainly says, hoping he catches her meaning.

"I know," he says, setting his fork down and holding his hand out to her across the table.

She places her hand in his automatically.

"It's fast, I know," he continues, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It isn't my intention to overwhelm you. If you want to go back to—"

"No, it's okay. Really," she says, returning the squeeze. "If I wasn't okay with it, I would have said." She looks down at her plate, then back up at him. "You've been very good about not pushing me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answers. "The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy," he softly adds, his tone making her insides wobble in that now-familiar way. Then, he kisses her knuckles.

"I know," she quietly replies, her words surprising her a little. _How, exactly, do I know this? I have no idea._

_ I trust him. I've known him slightly less than three days, and I trust him completely._

_ No, Gwaine, he is _not_ a serial killer._

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you?" Arthur asks. "If you were unhappy or uneasy or... anything?"

Guinevere nods. "I can't promise I'll always be able to explain it in any way that makes sense though," she says, an awkward giggle bursting forth. "My brain is a bit of a grab-bag sometimes."

He laughs, but she knows he is not laughing _at_ her. It makes her feel better. For a moment.

"Do I really look miserable?" she asks, suddenly worried that her demeanor has been misleading.

"No, no... just a little... spooked," he explains. "I was worried I had pushed you. I sometimes get a little... um, over-enthusiastic."

"Oh, really?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "I had no idea," she deadpans.

He laughs again, blushing a little. When his laughter subsides, he regards her for a long moment, then suddenly says, "I really want to kiss you." His eyes drop to the table. "This table is in the way though. Plus, we're in the middle of a restaurant, so I guess I'll have to wait." Instead, he kisses her hand again.

"Rain check," she says. He releases her hand and whatever spell they were under disappears. Picking up her fork again, she decides to change the subject to something lighter. "So, what TV shows do you watch?"

After dinner, Arthur and Guinevere take Tito for a stroll so he can see and sniff his new neighborhood.

_This feels normal,_ Guinevere muses as they walk. _Like a normal couple who didn't get married the day they met._ The neighborhood is quiet, well-kept, and well-off. Arthur's is the only garden in need of care, and Guinevere is looking forward to whipping it into shape.

"So, why 'Tito'?" Arthur asks, watching the odd, short-legged, golden dog lift his leg on a signpost.

"It was his name when I got him," she explains. "He's from a shelter."

"Really? I wouldn't think a dog like that would be in a shelter."

"His family had to move and couldn't take him. Apparently." She has her doubts.

"Hmm." Arthur seems to share her skepticism.

"I suppose if that wasn't the _real_ reason, it doesn't matter much now. He's a good, happy dog and I'm glad I'm able to give him a home." She takes a plastic bag from the little plastic canister on the leash and bends to pick up the "present" Tito had just left. "I like to think his brothers Jermaine, Jackie, Marlon, and Michael are happily running around somewhere."

Arthur laughs. "Does he really...?"

"I don't know," she answers, laughing with him. Arthur takes the bag of poo, freeing Guinevere's spare hand so he can hold it. "I just like to think that. It seemed like a good reason to name a dog 'Tito'. At least, in my mind."

He nods, and they turn a corner, heading back to the house. "'Michael' is kind of a crap name for a dog though," he comments after a minute.

She laughs, realizing she likes that he has such an effect on her. She smiles as she sees his house – their house – come into view.

"Pendragon," a voice calls. It's a gruff greeting, not exactly friendly, but not exactly rude.

"My neighbor," Arthur mutters. "Bit of an arse."

Guinevere's lips twitch as she tries not to giggle.

"Petersen," Arthur calls, moving slightly until Guinevere sees a tall, older man with blonde hair standing with a garden hose in his hand.

"You got a dog?" the man asks, not looking pleased by the prospect.

"By marriage, yes," Arthur answers. "This is my wife, Guinevere. Guinevere, Olaf Petersen. Got married a few days ago."

"Nice to meet you," she says, smiling.

Olaf's face actually brightens. "Nice to meet you, miss," he says. "Your dog, then?"

"Yes, this is Tito," she explains. "You won't even know he's here. He rarely barks and doesn't wander."

"Wish the same could be said about my ex-wife," he wryly answers. Guinevere can't contain her laughter this time. Arthur is shocked. He's never heard his neighbor say anything even remotely humorous.

"Um, yes. Have a good evening, Petersen," Arthur said, recovering.

"Pendragon," Olaf nods in reply. "Guinevere," he adds.

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Petersen. You have a lovely garden, by the way," she says, smiling.

"Thank you," he answers, smiling proudly.

Once they are out of earshot, Guinevere quietly asks, "What's his deal? He was all grumpy, but then seemed to cheer up when you told him you got married."

Arthur sighs. "His daughter has a bit of an infatuation with me which I did _not_ encourage, just so you know. He's probably happy I'm officially Off Limits."

"Is she underage or something?"

"She's a few years younger, but legal. She's probably due home from University soon." They walk into the house and she unhooks Tito's leash. "There's one spot in our back garden that has a clear view into his. Vivian likes to sunbathe in my line of sight."

"Classy," she says, slipping out of her shoes. "Is she pretty?"

"I used to think so. You know, before I actually met her." He takes his shoes off as well, and reaches back to lock the door.

She covers her mouth, trying to hide her snort of laughter. It doesn't work.

"I planted a tree in the blank spot, but it's not big enough yet," he says, capturing her by the hand and walking further into the house.

"Yes, they do take a while."

"Thankfully, she's not there all the time. She officially lives with her mum, but hangs out at Olaf's a lot, especially in the summer, just so she can go swanning about the garden in her bikini."

"Sounds like a lovely girl," she says. _She sounds like an utter twit._

"Yeah. Lovely," he says, rolling his eyes. "So..." He looks around the mostly-empty living room. _It's never felt empty before. There's not enough of her things in here yet. That must be it._

"Um..." she answers. They are standing in the sitting room, looking at each other. "Why is this awkward all of a sudden?"

Arthur exhales heavily, relieved to learn Guinevere feels the same way. He steps closer and takes her hands in his. "New place? We were at your flat the past two nights, and now we're here, and it's like..."

"Like a home. Like a _proper_ home," she softly finishes. _Our home. It did not escape my attention that earlier, he had referred to the garden as "our" garden._

He nods and gently tugs her hands, pulling her closer. Then, he wraps his arms around her. She automatically lifts up on her toes and meets his lips as he is dropping his head to kiss her.

They kiss for a minute, his hand thoughtfully coming up to cradle the back of her head.

When the kiss ends, being in the house doesn't feel so awkward anymore.

"Well, we're definitely good at that," Guinevere says, smiling.

"Definitely," Arthur agrees, sliding his hands down her arms to capture her hands again. "Come on. Let's go lie down. We're both exhausted."


	4. Chapter 4

_14 May_

_ I'm meeting Uther tonight. I keep telling myself not to freak out._

_ Arthur and I have been married for nearly a week. We've _known each other_ for nearly a week._

_ I haven't heard from Elyan at all, and I haven't tried to contact him. I know I should, but... I'm just not ready yet._

_ My schedule has changed somewhat. I still get up at three and go to work, but after work, I stop at my flat, see what I can shove into my car, and bring it with me to the house. Then, I undress, nap, shower, and work on infiltrating Arthur's house with my stuff until dinner._

_ Not Arthur's house. Our house._

_ Arthur has stopped in at the bakery every day. Yesterday, I told him he isn'__t__ obligated to buy something each time, because he ha__s__ been. He says he likes to, but today he didn't. I just like that he wants to stop in and see me. I told him __so__, which seemed to make him very happy._

_ I like it when he's happy. His happiness is infectious._

_ This marriage thing has been going surprisingly well thus far. A small part of me wonders when the rose-colored glasses are going to come off. When the "honeymoon" is going to end. Waiting for him to start being a jerk. Or tell me he has some weird kink, like he gets off on wearing diapers and being treated like an infant._

_ Logically, I know none of those things are likely to happe__n__. He seems positively hell-bent on making me happy and ensuring I am comfortable in his house. _Our_ house._

_ So, I generally ignore that small part._

_ We hired a van for Saturday to have my larger pieces moved. My bed is going to go in one of the spare bedrooms, my couch will go in the sitting room, and we're going to see what my table looks like in the dining room (it probably isn't big enough). We still need more furniture, and he has promised we'll go shopping soon._

_ I still feel a bit like a house guest, though I am beginning to feel more at home each da__y__. Having more of __my things here __does help. I've almost got the kitchen the way I want it, too. It's good he didn't have a lot of things in there._

_ Honestly, Arthur has been wonderful. The more I learn about him, the more I like him. He's got a propensity towards arrogance, yes (good for his job, I'm sure), but beneath that, he's very sweet. Thoughtful. Fortunately, I see more of the sweet side._

_ So. Why am I freaking out?_

_ I knew something was troubling Arthur when he came home Monday. He was a bit more subdued than I had seen him. Hugged me very tightly when he saw me, tucking his face into my neck. It was a very nice hug, but all I could think was, "What's wrong?" So, I asked._

_ He told me Uther wanted to take us to dinner so he can meet me. Thankfully, Arthur informed him of my work schedule, so we're having dinner at 5:30. Apparently, he usually doesn't dine until 7:30, which is too late for me on a weekday. While I was instantly nervous, I knew there had to be more, because dinner alone wouldn't have upset him._

_ Then, he said he and Uther had a bit of a row about me. Well, Arthur promises me it wasn't about me _personally,_ because his father doesn't even know me. He said it was about Arthur "acting irresponsibly" and "making rash decisions he may one day regret". Arthur explained this i_s_ his father's way of saying "I'm afraid your actions are going to make _me_ look bad" and that is Uther's issue with which to deal. It's not like they have paparazzi following them around or anything. Yes, people in Camelot know the Pendragon name, but outside? Doubtful._

_ I mentioned t__his particular __point to Arthur and he laughed. Told me he'd have to remember that the next time Uther got his knickers in a twist like this. He hugged me again and kissed my forehead, and I could tell he was feeling better._

_ Arthur assure__d__ me he stood his ground against his father and defended his decision to marry me. Which i__s__ actually why we're meeting at a restaurant instead of Pendragon Manor. He said Uther agreed to keep an open mind and not be "a judgmental twat"; even so, a public place is safer. Especially if we dine at one of Uther's regular haunts._

_ He was hesitant to tell me about the argument at first, saying he didn't want to make me more nervous, but quickly realized he needed to tell me so I wouldn't be blindsid__ed__. He had another reason as well. "I don't want to have any secrets from you," he said._

_ Wow._

_ That's important. It means a lot._

_ In any case, I'm still pretty anxious about meeting Uther. It's difficult to not take his apparent disapproval_ _personally, even though Arthur says it's not meant to be. "It's not you, Guinevere, it's that I did it at all," he said. More than once. Arthur seems to think Uther will come around when he meets me and sees how "wonderful" I am. I told him he was biased, but it is nice to know he feels that way._

_ I can only imagine what an argument between father and son barrister__s__ must be like__._

_ It's 4:30, and my stomach is starting to hurt. I've been second-guessing my outfit, even though Arthur had declared it will be_ _perfect. Been fretting over my hair, which I wanted to leave down, but now I'm not so sure. I play with it when I'm nervous, and the last thing I need to be doing in a fancy restaurant while meeting my wealthy and powerful father-in-law for the first time is twirling my hair like a schoolgirl._

_ I think I had better put it up._

_ At least, it's only his father. Uther had suggested inviting Morgana and Leon (and I'm guessing their son, though he wasn't mentioned) as well, so I could meet the whole family. Arthur told him no because that would probably be too overwhelming. I thanked him._

_ Okay. I suppose I should get dressed so I can do my hair._

xXx

"Father, this is my Guinevere," Arthur introduces them. Uther was just being seated at the table when Arthur and Guinevere join him, and he stands.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Guinevere says, smiling and extending her hand.

Uther grasps it briefly and looks her up and down, as if he is trying to figure out what magical quality this woman has that prompted his normally very reasonable son to plunge into an immediate and unexpected marriage. "Yes," he finally says, "charmed."

_Okay then._ Guinevere keeps a smile plastered on her face and steps over to where Arthur is pulling her chair out. He gives her an apologetic smile as she sits, then gently and reassuringly squeezes her shoulder before bending to kiss her cheek.

"Relax, Love. Try not to let him get to you," he whispers. Then, he shoots a warning glare at Uther. _Nice, Father._

"Arthur, I'd like you to take a look at the Cenred case tomorrow," Uther casually says, his eyes perusing the menu.

"Um, all right, but I'd really rather not discuss work right now, Father. Surely, that's not the reason you invited us to dinner," Arthur says, glancing up from his menu.

Uther peers at his son over the top of the menu. "Of course not."

The waiter arrives to collect their drink order, and Guinevere takes a moment to observe father and son. _I've noticed he's always "Father", never "Dad". Uther seems to like being superior. Has to be the alpha male._

Uther sets the menu down and turns to Guinevere, his face impassive. "Arthur tells me you're a... chef of some sort?"

"Pastry chef," Guinevere says, "though I mostly refer to myself as a baker. I studied Food Science at University and worked in Research and Development at Albion Foods for about two years."

Uther's eyebrows rise and he actually looks microscopically impressed. "You are no longer employed at Albion Foods?"

"I wasn't happy there. I was good at my job, but it wasn't the right fit for me," she explains, starting to feel a little uneasy. _I hope he's not judging me for leaving my impressive-on-paper job._ "Too much pressure; too much bureaucracy. I spent more time pushing paper around than actually working with food," she continues, picking up momentum now. "I chose the field because I love food. The process of turning ordinary ingredients, sometimes things unpalatable in their original form, into something wonderful and delicious. I liked the experimentation of the job, but that turned out to be a very small part of it. So, I found a job at a bakery and gave notice at Albion. Now, I can experiment all I want, and I don't have to log my findings and results or justify my ideas to anyone but myself." She glances at Arthur. _Am I rambling? I was rambling. Shoot. Two minutes into meeting his father and I'm already suffering from verbal diarrhea._

However, Arthur smiles encouragingly at her. He reaches for her hand and gently squeezes it.

"Interesting," Uther answers in a tone that suggests he doesn't actually understand the concept of leaving a job just because one is unhappy.

The waiter returns to take their food order. Arthur, unsurprisingly, orders steak. Uther has glazed pheasant, and Guinevere orders pesto crusted salmon.

"At what bakery do you work?" Uther continues.

"I told you, Father," Arthur says.

"I'm the Senior Baker at The Rising Bun," Guinevere supplies.

"Ah, that is one of Annis Caerleon's little endeavors," Uther observes.

"Yes," Guinevere answers, though she doesn't know why she's surprised he knows Annis. "Annis is a lovely woman."

"She is, indeed," Uther says. "Of course, I see to all her legal needs."

_Of course._ She just nods.

"Annis likes to dabble in small businesses, but they are all, in fact, part of one empire. She's Big Business disguised as many small ones," Uther continues. "I must say, I am surprised she allows you so much autonomy, if you are allowed to experiment."

"She didn't at first," Guinevere explains, wondering if that was a remark about her skills as a baker or Annis' notoriously tight control over her interests. "But, she trusts me now. I don't make big batches of anything until I'm happy with the results, and I often test things out at home first. Annis knows that."

"She's a very smart woman," Arthur agrees. "Father enjoys your bagels, by the way. He was the first to come and get one both times I brought them," he tells Guinevere. Over four days, he's bought bagels twice and muffins once.

She smiles. "I'm glad. Thinking of new flavors has become something of a hobby. I try to find ones that other bakeries don't have. Like piña colada and roasted garlic."

"What was the one you really liked on Friday?" Arthur presses, trying to get his father to pay his wife a compliment. _No easy feat, considering I rarely get them myself._

"Caramelized onion," he says. "It was," he pauses, clearing his throat, "unexpectedly delicious."

"Thank you, sir," Guinevere answers. "That's one of my newer creations, actually."

Uther takes a long drink of his scotch, then sets it on the table with a decisive thud. He clears his throat. "I grow tired of these pleasantries," he declares. "Young lady, exactly what is it you wish to gain from my son?"

Guinevere is dumbstruck. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Father," Arthur says, his voice low and stern. "Guinevere is not out to _gain_ anything. I've already told you."

"I wish to hear it from her," Uther calmly says, watching her intently.

"You assured me on Monday you wouldn't—"

Guinevere places her hand over Arthur's, stopping his words with her gentle touch. "It's all right, Arthur. I'll answer him." She turns to Uther. "Mr. Pendragon, if you think I am only after your son's money, I assure you, it's the farthest thing from my mind," she says, sounding more confident than she feels. She looks over and sees a muscle twitch in Arthur's jaw, and his eyes are like stormclouds. She squeezes his hand.

"You will forgive me when I tell you I have a difficult time believing that," Uther says. "Menial job, working class background, no parents... you have only to gain by marrying Arthur."

_ Of course, he checked up on me! _ _"Menial job"? What the hell is t__his__ classist bullshit?_ Guinevere maintains her composure, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what I can say to convince you I'm not that kind of person," she says, swallowing hard, willing her threatening tears to stay un-shed.

"Nor should you have to," Arthur chimes in. "Father, did you not hear _anything_ I told you on Monday? _I_ asked _her_. _I _had to convince _her_ to marry me. She was quite flabbergasted at the prospect, and didn't even blink when I told her who I was."

"I simply cannot fathom what kind of woman would marry a strange man on the day they met. If it..." he stops. The waiter brings their food.

Guinevere stares at her fish, no longer hungry.

The waiter leaves, and Uther picks up where he left off. "If it isn't money, then it must be sex," he casually says.

"Father!" Arthur hisses, careful to keep his voice down.

"I'm sorry, but those are the only explanations," Uther decisively states.

"No, they aren't," Arthur counters.

"Then, pray, what is the reason?" Uther asks, spearing his pheasant like it has insulted him.

"You don't need to know the bloody reason," Arthur answers. "Our reasons are our own. We are both adults. You may only like to think of me as an adult when it serves your purposes, but my decisions are mine, not yours. Guinevere is a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, kind woman and if you don't think those are reasons enough to marry her... well, then that's your issue."

"Mr. Pendragon," Guinevere quietly speaks up, "I am not interested in your son's wealth. I... I know it's too late for a pre-nuptial agreement, but—"

"Guinevere, this is not necessary," Arthur says, but she can see in his eyes how touched he is that she would make such an offer.

"Please, Arthur. It is. I... I want to be completely clear about this, because I can see it's causing a rift between you," she says. "Sir, I'd be willing to sign any document you draft up officially stating that if we... split up," she pauses, struck by how difficult it is to say those words. _Not now. Obsess over that later._ "If we split up, I won't try to bleed him dry. Or however you want to say it."

Uther blinks at her. "You're serious," he says, thrown.

"Of course I am," she answers, meeting his eye until he looks away. Then, she quickly turns her head and dabs away a tear with her napkin just as it forms in the corner of her eye. Arthur sees this, and his jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a firm line for a moment before he offers her a small, empathetic smile.

"I'll give it some thought," Uther says, pondering the possibilities of a post-nuptial agreement.

"Father, it is _not necessary,_" Arthur insists. "Her offer alone should be enough to convince you."

"The only thing I wish to gain is a chance at happiness with your son, Mr. Pendragon," Guinevere softly says. "Surely, you can understand that."

Arthur smiles at his wife again before turning his attention back to his father. "Which is what I was trying to tell you on Monday," he says. "I know it's difficult to believe, but my marrying Guinevere has nothing to do with you."

Uther stares at Arthur for a long moment, hard, as if he is seeing his son for the first time. Then, he looks at Guinevere. "Are you planning on taking my son's name?"

_Shit._ "I... haven't decided yet," she answers, not surprised that he knows she hasn't changed her name.

"We're still working on living arrangements and getting settled, Father," Arthur adds. "We haven't even had time to deal with what, in my opinion, is a pretty minor issue."

"A minor issue? This is the Pendragon name we are talking about." Uther sounds a bit offended.

"It's just a name, Father. It's Guinevere's decision, and if she chooses to keep Leodegrance, I will support that," Arthur says. _I would love for her to take my name, but I cannot force her and will not press the issue._

"Thank you, Arthur," Guinevere says, finally picking up her fork, knowing it would be rude of her to not eat.

They dine quietly for a while, each person grateful for the break. Arthur asks to try Guinevere's salmon and decides he doesn't care for it, which makes her giggle.

"You have a brother?" Uther asks, setting his fork down.

"Yes. Elyan. He's two years older," Guinevere answers. _But, you probably know that already._

"What is his job?"

"He's a musician," she says. "Plays bass in the Knights of Swing."

"Not in a symphony then," Uther says.

"He was," Gwen answers, "but he prefers jazz. Um, the director of the Camelot Symphony Orchestra has made it clear that Elyan is welcome to return at any time," she adds, hoping that might appease the older man. She is about to elaborate on Elyan's gifts as a musician, but suddenly realizes she truly doesn't care what Uther thinks of her, her family, or her background. Her main concern is how his assessment of her might reflect upon Arthur.

"Interesting," he says. "I imagine he is gone much of the time then?"

"Yes. They tour quite a bit. Heading to America this fall, in fact," she says.

"Hmm," he noncommittally answers. "When did your parents die?"

"Father..." Arthur sighs.

"It's all right," Guinevere says, thinking Uther probably knows the answer. "My mother died when I was seven. My father died nine years later."

"With whom did you stay after that?"

"Family friends," she answers. "Gwaine's parents," she explains to Arthur. "Then, I went to university and was on my own."

Uther looks at her long and hard. So long it makes her uneasy, and she tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

"Father, you're making Guinevere uncomfortable," Arthur says in a low voice. "Either speak what's on your mind or don't, but stop interrogating her with questions to which you already know the answer."

Uther's eyes dart to his son. "I am merely trying to understand, Arthur. This girl is a puzzle and I _will_ figure her out."

"I would greatly appreciate it, Father, if you would stop speaking about Guinevere as if she is not here. And, there is nothing to figure out," Arthur sighs. "You're just so used to dealing with people who put on airs and false fronts that you've forgotten there are people in the world who are exactly how they seem." He pushes his empty plate forward slightly and leans on his elbows. "I don't know if you will ever understand. Just accept my decision and accept that Guinevere is your daughter-in-law. She's a lovely person, and the sooner you let yourself see this, the happier we'll all be."

"Thank you, Arthur," Guinevere quietly says.

Uther takes another long pull from his second scotch, sighs heavily, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "You do seem like a perfectly... nice girl, um... Guinevere," he finally admits. "To be frank, I would have preferred someone with a bit more... breeding..."

"Oh, bloody hell, this isn't the Dark Ages and we aren't bloody royalty," Arthur groans, leaning back in his chair. "Get off your high horse for once."

"_If you would let me finish_, Arthur," Uther hisses, his eyebrows raising. He composes himself and turns his gaze to Guinevere. "I am not trying to insult you, but as I was saying, your background is not what I would have thought of as 'ideal', if I had a choice. However, Arthur is right. It is _not_ my choice, it's his. Also, your behavior this evening shows you to be a poised, well-spoken, and intelligent woman."

"Thank you, sir," Guinevere says, completely shocked. _Don't cry don't cry don't cry._

"My main issue was, and continues to be, the hasty way with which the two of you rushed to the altar. I don't understand why you couldn't have just courted this girl like a normal person," he says, directing the last bit to Arthur.

"Father, no one 'courts' anyone anymore," Arthur says, chuckling. He holds up his hand when Uther opens his mouth. "But, I know what you are saying, and there's no way I can explain it so that you'll be able to understand. I'm sorry you feel the way you do, but this is how it is."

Uther sighs. "So, I'm just supposed to trust you then? Trust that you're not just throwing your life away over some impetuous fling?"

"Yes," Arthur simply states.

The elder Pendragon says nothing for a long moment. "Very well." Arthur exhales heavily and, again, reaches for Guinevere's hand. "However," Uther adds, "if this… marriage turns sour, rest assured I will see to it that—"

"Yes, yes, I know, we've covered that. Draw up your post-nuptial paperwork if you must, but I am quite certain Guinevere and I will be fine. More than fine. Happy," Arthur says. He lifts Guinevere's hand and kisses it.

She smiles at Arthur, wishing she had his confidence. _I _can_ see myself being very happy with him. But... why do I constantly doubt myself and my decision?_ "Thank you, Mr. Pendragon," she says.

The busboy arrives and clears their plates. The waiter returns with the dessert tray, which Arthur eyes with blatant interest before ordering the flourless chocolate cake with raspberry sauce. At first, Guinevere declines, but Arthur presses.

"Come on, don't be shy," he cajoles.

Guinevere hesitantly bites her lower lip, then selects the crème brûlée.

Uther opts for sorbet.

The three diners are quiet during most of dessert, having exhausted both small talk and important matters. Both Arthur and Guinevere are noticeably relieved when Uther hands his gold credit card to the waiter before he is presented with the bill.

xXx

"That must have been some argument you had with your father on Monday," Guinevere says, sitting heavily on the bed and kicking off her shoes.

"Um, yeah. I may have downplayed it a bit. I didn't want to make you more nervous than you already were," Arthur admits. "There was yelling."

"Oh, dear," she says, frowning. "I'm sorry."

He sits beside her and pulls her against him. She lets her head fall on his shoulder. "Don't be sorry. First, it's not your fault. Two, I knew it wouldn't be pretty, so I was prepared for it. And, C," he pauses while she laughs at his numbering system, "_I'm_ not sorry. I didn't say anything I regret or will have to take back one day."

She lifts her head and kisses him. "_He_ probably regretted pushing you into studying law by the end of it," she says.

He barks a short laugh. "Maybe. Father may have more experience, but I have a quicker wit."

"I'm glad he eventually came around," she says. "In his way, at any rate."

"Ah, see, you understand him already," he smiles and kisses her forehead.

"He did a background check on me," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder again.

"Caught that, huh?" He reaches over, pulls her onto his lap, and wraps his arms around her.

"I didn't think you would have had a chance to tell him about my family, so... yeah."

"Sorry," he apologizes.

"You don't need to apologize. I somewhat expected it, and understand why he did it, honestly. I just thought it was interesting that he was all, 'menial job, working class background, no parents'," she pauses as Arthur chuckles at her Uther impression, "and then asking me about my brother without first asking me if I _had_ a brother."

"I think he was hoping you'd ask how he knew all that," he says, still laughing a bit.

"I know. Which is why I didn't ask," she says, chuckling as well.

"Good girl," he says, grinning proudly at her. "And, sorry about the 'menial job' comment. I saw it bothered you."

"It did, but considering the source..." she says, shrugging lightly.

"Right," he agrees. He is quiet for a moment, then kisses her lips. "You did really well tonight, Guinevere. I've seen grown men wither under gentler treatment. I... I'm proud of you," he adds, looking into her eyes.

"Really?" she asks, smiling. "I thought I was going to die..."

"Really," he confirms, kissing her again, longer. "When I saw him give you that once-over the second he saw you, I was like, 'Oh, boy, here we go...' but you did _so_ wonderfully. I hated that he made you cry though." He frowns.

"I'm surprised I was able to hold it back as well as I did, actually," she admits, laughing a little. "I don't think I could have been as brave if you hadn't been there. I knew you had my back."

"Always," he says, nodding decisively.

"Thank you, Arthur," she says, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Arthur smiles again, then continues. "The post-nuptial agreement thing was a stroke of genius, by the way. I hadn't even thought of that." Guinevere returns his smile, cheeks flushing as she grows warm under his praise.

He brings his hand up over hers and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm. "You look beautiful tonight, have I told you?"

"Not since you came home before dinner," she says. "Thank you. You look handsome, too. I like how you look in suits." She reaches down and lightly tugs his tie.

"Oh, don't tell me that, there'll be no living with me now," he jokes, and they both laugh. Then, he frowns a little. "By the way, I _did _notice how uncomfortable you were when my father gave you the once-over. Sorry about that."

"I think he was trying to figure out what you saw in me," she says. "Like, wondering if I was a witch who had enchanted you or something."

He chuckles. "Well, you have bewitched me," he says, toying with a curl that had worked itself loose. It was resting against the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and has been distracting him since dessert. He bends to kiss the spot. "But, you needed no witchcraft."

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she just closes her eyes and tilts her head to let him kiss her neck some more. "Arthur, I..."

"Hmm?"

_I don't remember what I was going to say._ "I need to change clothes," she manages, trying to ignore the heated chills he's created with his kisses.

"I know," he replies, kissing her two more times before releasing her. She stands and goes to the large walk-in closet to get into her night clothes while he changes in the bedroom.

_This is silly, getting dressed in the closet. It's a big closet, bigger than the bathroom at my flat, but..._ She sighs and pulls a soft nightshirt over her head. It's sleeveless and falls to just above her knees. She looks down and debates about wearing it at all, knowing its tendency to ride up while she sleeps, which means her knickers will be on full display.

_ They'll be under the covers._

_ So will his hands._

_ You say that like it's a bad thing._

_ I don't want to make matters more difficult for him than I already ha__ve__._

_ He's going to see them eventually, right?_

_ And, it's no different than if I was wearing a bathing suit._

_ Bugger it. These are comfy pajamas._

She goes into the bathroom to deal with her hair and prepare for bed, not glancing back into the bedroom yet. Ready, she peeks out and sees him sitting up against the headboard, shirtless.

"Um, I usually sleep this way... I hope you don't mind. I get warm," Arthur says, watching her approach.

Guinevere tries not to stare, but his chest is quite distracting. "No, it's fine... I was just surprised, that's all."

"I do have shorts on," he says, flipping the coverlet back for her, revealing the edge of a pair of soft red sleep shorts.

"I... I didn't think you were naked under there," she jokes, trying to appear casual. _He has a gorgeous body._

"I like your gown... thing," he says, and she realizes he's been staring at her as much as she has at him.

"Thank you," she says, his admiration making her feel a little more at ease. She slips into bed beside him and then shuffles her nightie down, making sure it covers her bum.

"Come here," he softly calls, and she turns to see he's shifted so he's lying down as well. He's got his arm out, wanting her to nestle beside him.

She rolls over and snuggles against him, her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her, resting his hand on her hip.

"Have you been too warm these past few nights?" she asks, feeling a little guilty.

"Um, yeah... but, it's okay. It's not your fault," he answers.

"You have a nice chest," she shyly compliments, gingerly resting her hand on the center of it, feeling the warmth of his skin. Beneath the light cover of dark blonde chest hair, she can feel the soft thud of his heartbeat against her palm. It's strangely comforting.

"Thank you," he says, chuckling warmly and kissing her head. "If I didn't say, I think you did impress my father," he says, his fingers idly stroking the skin of her upper arm and shoulder. "Even if he didn't let on, I'm fairly certain he likes you. Or is well on his way, at least."

"That's good to know, I guess. He's pretty intimidating."

"He works on that. Being intimidating. Practices in front of a mirror."

Guinevere laughs, turning her face slightly into him. He gives her a gentle, affectionate squeeze. She sighs, content.

_I do feel quite content here in his arms. Like, if we could just stay here, forever, I think I'd be okay with that._

Then, a thought occurs to her. Something from dinner.

"Do you want me to take your name?" she asks

"Of course I do," he immediately answers. "However, I don't want you to do it because it's what _I_ want. Change it only if _you_ want."

Guinevere smiles and cuddles closer.

"As I said to my father, it's only a name," Arthur says. "But, you're the one who has to wear it, so it's your decision."

She leans up and kisses him one more time. She feels all the nerves and high emotions of the evening drain away, leaving her exhausted.

"You're tired," he comments, noting her heavy eyelids.

"Mmm-hmm," she nods.

"Go to sleep, Love. You can stay right where you are. If you want, I mean," he says.

As she nestles in against him, cozy in his arms, one final thought floats through her brain.

_I need to call Elyan._


	5. Chapter 5

_17 May_

_ I did try calling Elyan on Thursday. He didn't pick up. I didn't leave a voicemail because his mailbox is always full. His mailbox is always full because he never checks his voicemail. It's a vicious cycle. He'll see that I tried calling though._

_ But now, I'm officially exhausted. I had more stuff than I thought. I also can't believe I moved._

_ I haven't _officially_ told my landlord yet. He doesn't live on the premises, so unless he stopped over while the moving van was there, he won't know._

_ I don't want to say I'm waiting until the last possible moment to tell him I'm moving, but... I'm waiting until the last possible moment to tell him I'm moving._

_ Just in case._

_ I know. I'm awful._

_ But, I did pay rent on the flat through the end of the month._

_ I fully acknowledge __this is__ a lousy excuse._

_ But, a girl can't be too careful. It's been a week and a half, and it's been good. But,_ _it's _only_ been a week and a half._

_ God, I sound like I'm _waiting_ for it to go pear-shaped. I'm not._

_ I don't think so anyway._

_ I'm too tired to think about this. The moving van arrived at eight a.m., which meant I was up at seven. We were also up late last night, organizing and cleaning._

_ Arthur is not exactly... skilled... at cleaning. But, he tried, which means a lot. At least,_ _he wasn't sitting there watching me do all of it by myself._

_ It was kind of strange, watching other people carry out my furnitur__e__. I felt like I should have been helping, not standing and watching. When Arthur said he hired a moving van, what he meant was he hired movers. When he saw my surprise, he actually felt bad. Like, embarrassed, I think. His upbringing was so different from mine. I'm sure he didn't lift a thing when he moved into thi__s__ house. When I moved into __my__ flat, I begged help from everyone I could think of, rented a truck that was barely big enough (which Gwaine drove), and was sore for three days aft__erwards__._

_ I actually felt a little useless, standing there while these two blokes carted out__ my furniture and the rest of my boxes__._

_ Useless, but grateful. I can't say I hated not having to help carry__ a __couch or mattress._

_ Mattresses are the worst to manage._

_ I had a little more to do when we got to the house because I got to tell the movers where to put everything. Arthur has pretty much let me have the run of the place, saying he doesn't really care what I do decorat__ing__-wise as long as his entertainment center stays._

_ I told him I didn't want to make all the decisions myself because if this is to be _our_ home, we should both contribute._

_ Even so, I've been making a list. Furniture we still need, possible paint colors, landscaping ideas. Those kinds of things. But, I'm not going to make any final decisions on my own._

_ The moving truck was half empty when Gwaine arrived. I had asked if he would come and help before I knew about the movers. Then, I sent him a text telling him never mind._

_ He replied telling me he'd come anyway so he can "meet this tosser, but I sure as shit ain't showing up at 8"..._

"Upstairs, guest bedroom. Same place you put the bed," Gwen tells the movers, Kevin and Rob. They nod and carry the dresser towards the staircase.

"You were always good at telling people where to go," a familiar voice echoes through the foyer. Gwen turns and smiles.

"Stow it, you," she says, hugging her friend. "Now, where is Arthur?" She looks around, wondering to where he could have disappeared. "Arthur?" she calls. "Arthur?" she repeats, louder.

"Lost him already?" Gwaine says, looking around. "House this size, no wonder."

"It's not _that_ big," she protests, realizing her words too late.

"Pity," he immediately fires back, grinning saucily. "Oh, wait, you wouldn't know yet... or _would_ you?"

"Stop," she says, laughing. "That's none of your business."

"Oh, so you _haven't_ then," he assesses, grin firmly in place.

"How do you know?" she asks, watching the movers pass through again.

"Darling, how long have I known you? I can tell by how you _didn't_ answer my question that you also _haven't—_"

"Were you calling me, Love? Sorry, I was up – oh, hello, you must be Gwaine. Arthur Pendragon," Arthur steps forward, hand outstretched.

The movers enter with some boxes, and Guinevere tells them where to place them while her husband and friend shake hands.

"Gwaine Owens," Gwaine answers, shaking the other man's hand. "Nice house."

"Thanks," Arthur says, assessing Guinevere's friend, fully aware Gwaine is doing the same to him. _Bloody hell, he's more handsome in person. At least, he's not taller than me._

"I was just entertaining your little wife—ow!" Gwaine flinches and rubs his arm where Guinevere has just pinched him.

"He thinks he's more entertaining than he actually is," she says. "Little wife," she mutters, looking sideways at Gwaine.

Arthur chuckles and slides his arm around her waist. "I'll have to remember never to use that term," he says.

"So, Gwennie, what can I do?" Gwaine asks. "Hey, where's Tito?"

"He's out back, in the garden, staying out of the way," she answers. "As far as what you can do..."

"I was attempting to put Guinevere's bed together in the guest bedroom. Wouldn't say no to an extra pair of hands," Arthur offers.

"Sure, okay," Gwaine says.

"Miss?" Kevin calls.

Guinevere peers at the box, clearly labeled _KITCHEN._ "Kitchen," she says.

He looks down. "Oh, yeah. Right."

"Lead the way, my good man," Gwaine says.

Arthur gives Guinevere a quick kiss, then heads back upstairs with Gwaine following. "So, what line of work are you in, Gwaine?" he asks.

"I'm a zookeeper," Gwaine answers, his voice fading as they get further away. "I'm in charge of..."

"Um, sitting room," Guinevere says to Rob, who has appeared with a side table in his grasp.

xXx

Arthur watches Guinevere and Gwaine out in the garden. They are walking around, discussing the landscaping. Guinevere has a notebook in her hand and occasionally jots things down. Tito is trotting around them, chasing sticks that Gwaine throws from time to time.

He likes Gwaine. Gwaine is a very likable guy. He's charming, witty, and much more intelligent than he lets on.

He was also keenly aware he was being judged. Assessed. Tested, even. And, he can't really blame Gwaine. Guinevere is a wonderful person, and Gwaine is protective of her. As he should be.

He learned Guinevere and Gwaine are the same age, and they actually have known each other their entire lives, as Guinevere had said. It wasn't an exaggeration. Guinevere's parents were good friends with Gwaine's parents.

Arthur learned a lot of things. There are photos of Guinevere and Gwaine in the bathtub together when they were just barely toddlers. Guinevere once told off a bigger bloke who was bullying Gwaine when they were in year six at school. Gwaine took her to a school dance when she was feeling her most awkward and unattractive. There was also an entire year when she wouldn't speak to him. Gwaine didn't elaborate on that too much, but Arthur suspected it may have had something to do with him becoming, as she called him, a "man-whore."

After their father died, she and Elyan moved in with Gwaine's family, as specified in the will. Elyan was only there a short time before he left for university, but Gwen lived with them for two years. Gwaine is an only child, and while Guinevere referred to him as "like a cousin," Arthur got the distinct impression they are more like siblings.

The sound of Guinevere's laughter pulls him from his musings, and he looks out from his place (definitely _not_ hiding) in the sunroom to see his wife laughing, her hand landing on Gwaine's chest. Gwaine says something else and she pushes him, then runs.

Gwaine gives chase, catches her easily, and hoists her into the air, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

"Put me down!" she yells, trying to sound indignant through her laughter. Tito is leaping around Gwaine's feet, but to Arthur's surprise, the little dog doesn't bark. Guinevere's notebook drops. She takes her pen and draws a long, wavy, blue line on Gwaine's arm from his elbow to his hand.

"Hey!" Gwaine protests, and releases her, licking his thumb and trying to rub the line away.

She says something Arthur can't hear, picks up her notebook, and flips to a blank page. He watches the profile of her face transform into an adorable scowl as she draws something, standing in the middle of the garden, facing the fence. She turns slightly, her back to him, as she studies the far corner, still drawing.

_She must be drawing a plan._

Gwaine saunters – no, struts. The man struts – to stand behind her and peers over her shoulder. He reaches down and points at something on the page, perhaps suggesting something. Then, he gestures to the corner, lifting his hand and spreading his fingers out, indicating something large, maybe. Guinevere nods in agreement, looking up at him.

Their faces are very close. If Arthur was in Gwaine's position, he would have kissed Guinevere right then.

Gwaine does not. Arthur knows he won't.

Even so, he realizes he is jealous of this man. Not romantically, because after the time he spent alone with Gwaine this morning, he is quite sure that any sort of romantic relationship between Guinevere and Gwaine would feel incestuous to them both.

Instead, Arthur is jealous of their closeness. At how comfortable Guinevere is with Gwaine. How easily she laughs, how they seem to communicate without using a lot of words, how his close proximity doesn't make her uneasy at all. He's jealous of their_ friendship_.

_I do make her laugh. And,__she seems quite at ease when we are close. Hell, she sleeps soundly in my arms every night. Surely, tha__t __counts for something. And the communication, well, we've only known each other__ for __a week and a half. She's known Gwaine for 26 years. That's not even a fair comparison._

Logically, he knows all this, but it still makes his heart feel a little heavy. _We'll get there. I know we will_.

Gwaine wanders away from Guinevere, and Arthur's eyes widen when he realizes where Gwaine is heading. He thinks he sees a certain look on his face as well.

_Oh, no... Guinevere, save him_!

However, Guinevere hasn't met Vivian yet. And, if Arthur goes out, they may realize he's been watching (definitely _not _spying on) them. But, Gwaine is strutting towards the newest tree in the garden, his eyes locked on Olaf's property.

_I probably should go out there._

Guinevere is still drawing on her pad, and doesn't seem to notice Gwaine's absence. Then, her head sharply raises. Gwaine must have said something to Vivian. Guinevere starts to walk over.

Arthur opens the door to the sunroom and goes outside to join them, walking briskly across the lawn.

"...Arthur having some landscaping done? Are you landscapers?" Arthur hears Vivian's girlish voice and cringes.

"No, darlin', we're—"

"Gwaine," Arthur calls. Gwaine turns to see Arthur looking at him with his lips pursed and his eyes wide. He is shaking his head _no_ very slightly. He mouths the word "crazy".

"Arthur!" Vivian squeals when she sees him, her face brightening. "I was hoping I'd see you! I got home from University _just_ last week, and..."

Arthur glances at Guinevere, who is giving him a look that clearly says, "Really?"

"Vivian," Arthur says, his voice dull but polite. He takes Guinevere's hand. "Allow me to introduce Guinevere, my wife. And that's Gwaine, a friend."

"Hello," Guinevere says, waving. She smiles politely.

"Wife?" she squeaks, her elfish face falling. "You got... m-married?" She looks remarkably confused.

"Bloody hell, mate," Gwaine mutters under his breath, trying not to laugh.

"Yes, I did. Guinevere and Gwaine were just out here trying to decide what to do with the garden... I think," he says, looking at Guinevere.

"Yes, I have lots of ideas," she says, smiling up at him.

Arthur smiles back, his earlier jealousy dissolving in the light of her warmth. "I'm glad," he says. Neither of them notices Vivian's crestfallen expression nor Gwaine's interested scrutiny.

"Vivian!" Olaf's voice booms, and she exhales heavily, as though highly inconvenienced and exasperated by her father. "Vivian, I told you— oh, hello, Guinevere. Pendragon," Olaf greets them. He looks at Gwaine and gives him a small, unsmiling nod.

Arthur notices Olaf has addressed his wife first, but it doesn't bother him at all. _Clearly he likes her better than he does me._ "Petersen," Arthur returns. "I was just introducing your daughter to my wife," he says.

"Very good," Olaf answers, almost smiling. "I trust you're planning on doing something with all this?" he asks Guinevere, gesturing towards the garden. "I see your notebook there."

"Yes, Gwaine and I were just making some notes. This is my friend Gwaine," Guinevere says. Olaf gives Gwaine an acknowledging grunt and nod, then returns his attention to Guinevere. "He and I used to help our mums in their gardens when we were children," she explains.

"I know more about plants than you would think," Gwaine chimes in.

"I see," Olaf nods. "Well, let me know if you need anything, Guinevere. I have hostas that'll need dividing before long, and my hollyhocks always seem to re-seed themselves."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," she answers, noting Arthur's surprised face beside her.

"Stop over before you go to the garden center and we'll see what I can help you with," Olaf says. "Vivian, come inside."

"Father..."

"There's rain coming," he says. She pouts, frowns at Arthur and Guinevere, bats her eyelashes at Gwaine, then reluctantly stands and follows her father back to the house.

"Well, she—" Gwaine starts.

"No," Guinevere interrupts.

"But..."

"No."

"Gwennie..."

"_No._"

Arthur watches as Gwaine looks down at Guinevere, opens his mouth, closes it, then sighs.

"Fine."

"Is it really going to rain?" Guinevere asks, suddenly turning to Arthur.

"Hmm? Might do," he answers, looking up, still recovering from Guinevere and Gwaine's little exchange just now. _Talk about shorthand._ "Let's go inside anyway. You can show me what you've drawn."

"She was pretty," Gwaine comments. Guinevere gives him a look. "Well, she _was._ A person can be a nitwit and still be pretty," he protests.

Guinevere raises an eyebrow at Gwaine, and Arthur laughs.

"At least, you still think I'm pretty," Gwaine says to Guinevere, flipping his hair as they walk inside.

xXx

_ Gwaine brought up a point when we were in the garden together. It's something I had thought of earlier and forgotten. We were looking around and I was making notes, and he just goes, "Arthur seems like a great guy. Good catch. Handsome, friendly, smart, good job, house, loads of cash." I agreed, and he continued with, "So, why was he still single?"_

_ At first, I defended Arthur. Said maybe he hadn't found the right person yet. Or, maybe the fact that he is rich was working against him, like he doesn't know if women like him or his money._

_ But,_ _it's been nagging at me since he brought it up. Keeps popping into my head. When the three of us were laughing together over our pizza dinner, I'd see Gwaine giving me pointed looks from time to time. Finally, when Arthur got up to get more drinks for us, I told Gwaine to knock it off and said I _would_ ask Arthur about his history._

_ He left shortly after dinner, but not before inviting us to go out to the pubs with him. We declined, of course. I knew he wasn't expecting us to join him anyway, but I did want to start working on these boxes. I hate having boxes everywhere..._

"Guinevere," Arthur calls, appearing in the kitchen doorway. "It's getting late, Love."

"I just want to do one more," Guinevere answers, lifting another box onto the small table. She reaches for the flaps on the top and his large, warm hands close over hers.

"Guinevere," he softly says, gently pulling her hands away from the box and wrapping his arms around her from behind. "It can wait."

"But..."

He presses his lips to the side of her neck and pulls her against him. "It can wait," he repeats, his lips still brushing her skin. "There's nothing in any of these boxes that needs to be unpacked right now." He kisses her neck again, and she sighs, leaning back.

"I hate boxes," she says, but she's not arguing. _And, maybe I'm stalling because I know I need to ask you something._

"There aren't any boxes in our bedroom," he says, turning her to face him. "Come on, we'll find something stupid to watch and unwind."

"Okay," she agrees, leaning up to kiss him. She intends it to be a simple kiss, but her hand slides up into his hair before she realizes it, and soon their lips are parted, kissing deeply. His arms slide around her back, supporting her as he leans her back a little.

They bump into the box and start laughing. "Whoops," Arthur says, straightening up. "Got carried away."

"Yeah, little bit," Guinevere agrees. "All right, let's go upstairs."

xXx

"Arthur?" Guinevere asks, finally summoning her courage.

"Yes?" Arthur looks down at her, tucked against his side as they watch a mindless action movie.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course, you may ask me anything at all," he answers, then reaches for the remote and switches off the telly.

She scoots slightly away, leaning on her elbow. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I am an open book," he says, smiling up at her. "What would you like to know?"

"Um, well, it's something I thought of last weekend, and, well, Gwaine reminded me of it today because _he_ asked me the same question, and I told him I would ask you, and..."

"Guinevere," he softly interjects, slightly smiling.

"Right. Rambling. Sorry."

"It's all right. It's really quite adorable, but I am rather curious now," he says.

"Why were you still single before we met?" she blurts. "I mean, by all accounts, you're a... a catch. Smart, handsome, sweet... um, wealthy..."

"Ah. That," he says, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "Well, I haven't always been single. I mean, I've never been married, as you know, but I've had girlfriends. Not since university, come to think of it, but... honestly, I've mainly been concentrating on my career and trying to make a name for myself _independent_ of my father, which, as I'm sure you know by now, is no easy feat," he explains.

"Yes, of course," she says, nodding. "Perhaps it wasn't a very fair question. I mean, it's not like you're over 40 or anything..."

"No, no, it's a very good question," he says. "It's a perfectly good, reasonable question." He takes her hand. "I dated a girl called Mithian for two years while I was in law school."

"What happened?" Guinevere asks.

"It started out well. She was smart, pretty... rich," he says, shrugging almost apologetically as Uther's shadow slips into the room for a moment.

"So, your father approved of her _breeding_?" she asks, smiling so he knows she is not upset. She's a little surprised to realize she actually isn't.

"Yeah. In fact, it turned out he knew her father from way back," he says. "But anyway, we had fun for a while. Lots of common interests, that sort of thing. But, as time went on, I kind of started feeling... stale."

"Stale?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

"You know, like nothing was new, nothing was fresh, nothing was even _interesting _anymore. We almost had too much in common. It just kind of... fell flat. We were going through the motions and spending more and more time apart. Never said 'I love you' anymore. Physical affection was almost nonexistent. We rarely even held hands." He looks up at Guinevere. "Everyone said what a good pair we were. But, we weren't a couple; we stayed together out of habit, I think. And, it was _expected_," he explains. "Of course, I can say all of this now, on reflection. At the time, I thought becoming stale was simply what happened with long-term relationships, as I had no basis for comparison. I had never dated anyone that long before then."

"Did she feel the same way?" Guinevere asks, ignoring the surprising pang she felt when he so casually commented that he had loved this other woman. _Or, he thought he did._

Arthur nods. "She did. She told me after we broke up. It was nearly graduation. My father knew her father, but her father was no longer a barrister. He'd gone into politics, so while I had a spot at my father's firm waiting for me, she had to actually find a practice."

"Would I know her father's name?"

"George Rodor," he supplies.

"Doesn't sound familiar," she shrugs. "Of course, I don't go in much for politics. I trust she found a job?"

"Yes. In Venice."

"Ah," she knowingly answers. "So..."

"Right. I was to stay here and join my father's practice, she was going there. She would have to take more classes so she would be allowed to practice law there, but the firm was going to pay for it, and since she is fluent in Italian, it wasn't a problem. The only problem was me."

"But, you weren't really a problem, were you?"

He chuckles. "Not really, no. Once we started talking about the situation and _really_ were honest with ourselves and each other, we realized we were good friends, but the spark had long fizzled. There weren't any tears from either of us."

"I imagine your families and friends were shocked," she comments.

He chuckles. "Um, yeah. Big time. The only person who wasn't was Merlin."

"That makes sense," she nods.

"We still email occasionally, Mithian and I. And, I saw her when she was in town last year."

"Oh," Guinevere says, looking down. "That's nice." _Why do I feel jealous?_

"Guinevere, she was in town last year because she was getting married," Arthur says. "And now, I am married to _you._"

She lifts her eyes to his, surprised. "Am I that easy to read?" she asks, bewildered at how quickly he saw the jealousy she was trying to hide.

He lifts her hand and kisses it. "Occasionally," he says. "I'm learning pretty quickly. You are fascinating to watch, I will tell you that."

"Um, thanks, I think," she answers, but there is a smile pulling at her mouth. "Um, so... what made you realize that how you were with Mithian _wasn't_ how long-term relationships should be?"

"Well, it wasn't from my childhood. I didn't exactly have a model for a happy long-term relationship since I was so young when my mother died," he explains. She nods, frowning slightly, remembering. "I spent a lot of time at Merlin's house, but his father died when he was just a baby," he continues. "And, most of the rest of my family is unmarried, dead, or I just never see them." He snorts a short laugh. "In some cases, all three."

"I understand that completely," Guinevere agrees.

"Anyway, to answer your question, my sister got married," Arthur says. "I had graduated a few months earlier, and was a groomsman in Morgana and Leon's wedding."

"They have a good marriage?" Guinevere asks.

"Yes, to almost everyone's surprise. She's got this high-powered finance job – they call her the Dragon Lady – and likes to be pampered, and he's an artist with hair that always needs either cutting or combing and who sometimes leaves the house with his shirt mis-buttoned."

"Goodness," Guinevere says, trying to picture it.

"Yeah. Most people can see what he sees in her, but I've heard more than one person question why she's with him. Rude much," Arthur says. "Leon is really a great guy. And, it's not like he's hideous. He's not. He's handsome, talented, charming, smart, and really tall."

"Sounds like someone has a crush," she teases, unable to help herself.

"Don't tell Morgana," he answers, laughing. "Honestly, I love him like a brother. And their kid, Mordred, is two, but he's actually pretty cool for a toddler." He blinks a moment, trying to remember his point. "Oh, yeah. So. I spent a lot of time with them before the wedding obviously, and I could see that what they had – have – isn't what Mithian and I had at all. They were very comfortable together, of course, but they weren't bored with each other. And, they still aren't."

"Okay, so now I have another question," Guinevere says.

"I think I know what it might be, but go ahead," Arthur replies.

"Did Uther _approve_ of his daughter marrying a lowly artist?"

"Yep, that is the one. Um, yeah... Leon's family is almost as wealthy as ours, so..."

"Ah. Right."

"Father is a snob to his very bones. He hates that Leon is an artist, but has several of his pieces in his house. He's a sculptor, mainly. And, since the Rupert name is as respected as the Pendragon name, he tolerates his son-in-law's 'whim', while not-so-secretly wondering when Leon is going to grow up and get a real job," he explains.

"Wow," she says.

"It's probably good I told you all of this anyway, since we're having brunch over at theirs tomorrow," he says.

"Oh, bugger, that's right, I completely forgot," she answers, eyes widening. "Got so caught up in the move and worrying about your sordid past, you know."

Arthur smiles and holds his arm out to Guinevere. She scoots over, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for telling me, Arthur," she says.

He gives her a squeeze. "You're very welcome, Guinevere. Any time." He is quiet for a few moments, picking up her hand from where it was resting on his chest and kissing it. He kisses each finger in turn as he ponders his next words, wondering if he should ask about her past relationships. However, his brain keeps shifting focus to a different issue, and the topic of ex-boyfriends gets filed away for another night. "I'm jealous of Gwaine," he softly admits.

"What?" she lifts her head and looks at him, surprised.

"Not like that," he clarifies. "I know your feelings for each other are strictly familial. That became very clear to me today. What I mean is I'm jealous of the closeness you have with him. How comfortable you are together, you know?"

"Arthur, I..." she hesitates, thinking a moment. "You and I have known each other for, what, a week and a half?" He nods. "I've known Gwaine literally my entire life. There's... there's just no way you and I could—"

"I know, Love, I do, honest. And, that's what I told myself when I was watching the two of you in the garden this afternoon. Sorry, I was standing in the sunroom watching before I came out to rescue you from Vivian."

"I thought you might have been," she says, smiling. "For what it's worth, I _am_ comfortable with you. Quite comfortable, in fact." She returns her head to his shoulder and wraps her arm around his chest to illustrate her point. "And, as far as closeness goes, I don't know of anyone else to whom I'd grown so close so quickly."

"Really?" This time it is his turn to ask.

"Really," she confirms, leaning up to kiss him. "Usually, it takes me a while to achieve this level of comfort and closeness with someone." She smiles.

He sighs, but returns her smile. "I know it's illogical for me to expect us to have the kind of bond you and Gwaine have at this point in our relationship, but... I would like to, one day. Very much."

"I'd like that, too," she says. _ I really would. And, when I'm here alone with him, it seems so easy. Simple_.

"Something to work towards then," he declares. He looks into her eyes for a moment, and then a silly smile creeps across his face. "If you want, I can start farting in front of you," he offers.

Guinevere laughs, loudly and suddenly. "That's quite all right," she says. "I mean, if you _must,_ you must, but don't make a special effort or anything..." She falls to laughing into his shoulder.

Arthur hooks a finger under her chin and gently lifts it, kissing her lips. "Your laughter is like music," he murmurs, kissing her again, longer. They slide down until her head hits the pillow, Arthur leaning over her, his hand lingering on the side of her neck.

"Arthur," she says, her voice slightly breathy. He misinterprets her meaning and delves back in, his hand ghosting over her chest to her waist, his fingers bunching the material of her pajama top. Guinevere nearly forgets what was on her mind, but she stubbornly regroups. "_Arthur._"

"Hmm?" he lifts his head and opens his eyes, gazing down at her.

"Aren't you afraid that you and I will get... stale?" she asks, her voice small. She bites her lip.

He ponders her for a moment. "Not really, no," he answers.

She blinks. "What makes you so sure?"

"Do you truly want me to answer that question, Guinevere? I do not wish to overwhelm you."

She looks up at him, into his blue-gray eyes, and almost says "no". Almost. Her voice won't come though, so she simply nods.

He smiles a very small smile and caresses her cheek with one finger. "Because what I feel for you is completely different from what I felt for Mithian."

"Different?" she quietly asks.

He nods. "Well, you're a completely different person."

"Oh."

He kisses her. "Different _better._ Um... stronger."

_Whoa._ "Oh," she dumbly answers, blinking at him again.

"I did warn you," he gently reminds her, kissing her once more.

"I know," she answers. "For a second, I thought about saying 'no'. Then, I remembered what you said about not wanting to keep things secret."

Arthur nods again, then kisses her forehead. "Life with you could never grow stale, Guinevere," he says. "Of this, I am certain."

She smiles, and that feeling of _rightness_ descends over her again. _I wish it would stay around when I am alone and faced with explaining this situation to other people._ "Thank you, Arthur," she replies, not knowing what else to say.

He kisses her again, then lifts his head and says, "Especially considering there are naked bathtub photos of you and Gwaine out there somewhere which I have yet to see..."

"Arthur!" she exclaims, laughing and attempting to push him off, but he simply catches her hand, kisses it, then kisses her lips. "I am going to kill Gwaine," she manages between kisses.

"Do it later," he says, moving the hand he is still holding up to his shoulder. Then, he returns his hand to its former place at her waist, sliding it beneath her, holding her, while he very effectively helps her forget what they were discussing.

Guinevere quietly whimpers, wrapping her leg around his, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other roving his back, acquainting itself with the broad muscles there.

Arthur's fingers make contact with her skin beneath her shirt, and she softly moans into his mouth.

"That okay?" he murmurs, moving along her jaw to her neck.

"Yeah," she answers, her voice just a breath. She moves slightly, hoping to encourage his hand to move higher, to let him know he can, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Arthur..." she whispers, then reaches down, puts her hand over his, and guides it up.

He groans, almost collapsing over her as his fingers close around her bare breast, finding it as perfect as he remembered, only this time with no barriers between his hand and her silken skin. Her nipple tightens and hardens against his palm, and he longs to lavish kisses upon it, but will go no further until she tells him he can.

Guinevere arches her back, pressing her breast into his hand and pulling his head back up from her neck to her lips. She wants to feel them on hers, his tongue against hers, as well as his hands on her skin. She realizes she's going to want more. Soon.

_Maybe this can work._


	6. Chapter 6

_20 May_

_Brunch on Sunday was actually fun. Morgana is a very interesting person. At home, she is lovely and warm. She clearly adores Leon and is an excellent mother to Mordred. I was just beginning to wonder where the "Dragon Lady" label came from_ _when she received a business call. I was surprised she would tak__e__ such a call on a Sunday, but apparently it isn't entirely uncommon for her._

_ In any case, it was like someone flipped a switch on her back. She excused herself from the table, so I didn't hear much of the call, but her manner changed completely from Charming Hostess to Financial Dominatrix._

_ That's the only way I can describe it._

_ It was honestly amazing. Uther must be very proud of her._

_ I mean that in a good way._

_ Leon is a great guy, just as Arthur had said. He's really down to earth and completely sweet. Very mellow, which balances Morgana's more type-A personality nicely. And,_ _he's super hilarious with Mordred._

_ Mordred's a great kid. Very smart. Morgana told me he can already identify colors and shapes. He speaks quite clearly for a two-year-old as well. He's certainly better behaved than a lot of toddlers I've seen. He was pretty shy with me at __first__, but loves his Uncle Arthur. I brought him some homemade sugar cookies __shaped like trucks __(I was up pretty early Sunday morning. Couldn't sleep). Scored_ _me some major points with him._

_ Their house is gorgeous. Like, seriously gorgeous. Leon's art i__s__ everywhere, but not in an annoying or obvious kind of way. He even had a piece for us, a tall vase he had somehow made on a pottery wheel. I say "somehow" because it is pretty tall. I suppose, he does have pretty long arms.__ It's glossy black with a kind of speckled beige inside. The speckled part is also around the top and kind of drips down the side over the rim a bit. It's very cool._

_ The most interesting thing about Sunday's brunch was that Morgana was as accepting about Arthur and me_ _as Uther was skeptical. She said our story is __one of the most romantic things she's ever heard (I assume the top slot goes to Leon in some way), and i__s__ happy as long as Arthur i__s__ happy. Leon was equally positive about our marriage, saying ours is __a "beautiful and unique story" and he wished he had been brave enough to propose to Morgana the day he met her. She laughed and told him to hush, but he insisted he would have. She blushed and kissed him._

_ Mordred ran over to his parent, patting her on the knee, wanting some affection, too. Morgana smiled, scooped him up, and she and Leon kissed his cheeks. Then, he squirmed away and ran over to Arthur, who leaned down, gave him a kiss, then blew a raspberry on his cheek. Mordred squealed and blew on Arthur's cheek, then ran away, giggling. He looked at me, and _almost_ came to me. I just waved. Arthur smiled at me, wiping the moisture from his cheek. I smiled back at him, a curious warmth spreading in my chest from watching him interact with his nephew._

_ He's really cute. Biggest, bluest eyes I've ever seen. He played on the floor after we ate__, occasionally toddling over to one of us to show us something. Of course, when he finally came to me, his plastic bulldozer was the most interesting thing in all the lan__d._

_ Morgana told me not to worry about Uther, waving her hand dismissively as though he i__s__ nothing more than a minor annoyance instead of __a__ powerful, scary bloke. She said he is damaged and has forgotten what love is. She seemed pretty confident he would grow to like me and I should just give him time. Be patient._

_ I can do that._

_ I hope Arthur can continue to be that patient with me. I need him not to lose his absolute belief in us._

_ I'm assuming Uther's "damage" has something to do with Arthur and Morgana's mum dying. File that one away to maybe ask about later._

_ So, brunch was fun. Merlin popped over__ here __the same afternoon, just to be nosy. I like Merlin. He's funny. I also don't think I've met a friendlier and more affabl_e_ person. I mean, Arthur is great, but he's... Arthur. He's got this charisma that makes people want to listen to him. He's a natural leader. Both Arthur and Merlin are outgoing, friendly, and kind people. They_ _just wear it differently._

_ A person sees Arthur and automatically knows_ _he's somehow important. Someone you want on your side in a battle. He is courageous and honest, a man who expects the best from others because he gives his best._

_ A person sees Merlin and automatically knows_ _he's loyal and true. Someone you want _by_ your side in a battle. He has no pretense whatsoever, a man who is exactly how he seems._

_ So, yes, I like Merlin very much. I learned he has a girlfriend. Her name is Freya and she is a science teacher. I'll get to meet her at his graduation party, if not before. He's having a __gathering__ in a few weeks to celebrate his finishing medical school._

_ I think he'll do well as a pediatrician. There's just something about him that says, "You can trust me with your children."_

_ Or in my case, dog._

_ Gwaine stopped in again as well. He had been at__ his mum's that morning (he often goes there for lunch on Sundays). He told her all about our garden and the plans we had made for it, and she sent over __a few__ divisions of some of her plants for me. Gwaine immediately brought them over on his mother's orders._

_ Merlin was still here, so the two of them got to meet. They got on immediately, and even talked about getting together sometime to play Halo. Or one of those video games where you shoot people. I don't remember exactly. Might have been Call of Duty. Both were mentioned._

_ I hadn't realized Merlin was a gamer. I knew Gwaine was, of course, but I asked Merlin where he found the time for games __while going to__ medical school. He said something about sleep being overrated, which made Arthur laugh._

_ Later, I asked Arthur about this, and he explained that Merlin only seems to need about five hours of sleep a night and was apparently quite a bundle of energy as a boy. "We sometimes wonder if he's from another planet," Arthur had said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "His mum assures us he's human, but we still have our reservations."_

_ I told him he was terrible, but it's obvious he loves his friend. Having been so close with Gwaine most of my life, I've learned a lot about how men show affection for their mates. It mainly involves taking the mickey out of each other as much as possible._

_ I tried calling Elyan again on Monday. The call went straight to voicemail, so his phone must have been off. I sent him a text as well this time. Told him to call me when he can._

_ I don't know what more I can do apart from stalking hi__m. Hopefully, he will phone soon. I need to take care of thi_s_._

_xXx_

_ Arthur has continued to come into the bakery every morning. He's even been in the back once or twice when I was busy. He didn't buy anything yesterday, which is fine. Today was interesting..._

"So, you're sure I can't interest you in our new pre-made dough balls?" Lancelot asks. Again. Each time he stops in to deliver the monthly supply of flour, sugar, and yeast, he always tries to push other items on Gwen. Pre-made items. Convenient, but lacking in quality.

"No thank you," she answers, surreptitiously taking half a step away from him. He has a tendency to stand a little too close, and she doesn't enjoy having her personal space invaded.

"They would save you so much time, Gwen," he presses. "You'd have more time for... thinking up new recipes, or… special orders, or… oh, _other_ interests." There's a look in his eye she has seen a few times and ignored.

Thankfully, a timer goes off and she heads to an oven with a muttered, "Excuse me."

"Um, Gwen," Lance continues, following her. He clears his throat. "Since I can't seem to interest you in any of our additional products... perhaps there's somethin_g else_ I can offer that might catch your interest?"

"What are you— oh!" She turns and finds him surprisingly close, so close she almost burns him with the hot pan in her gloved hands. "Back up, please, you are going to get hurt," she says, sounding a little harsher than she intended. But, he's starting to get on her nerves, even creep her out a little. She knows he likes her and has come just shy of asking her out several times now. Looks like this time he's going for it.

"Sorry," he apologizes and steps back. She hears him take a deep breath and slowly release it. "Um, Gwen, what I'm trying to say... I mean, what I'd like to ask is..."

"Something smells wonderful," Arthur announces, striding into the kitchen, his eyes locked on Guinevere. "I don't know if it's these breads or if it's you." He steps up to her, gently frames her face with his hands, and plants a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips. "Mmm, definitely you," he says.

Guinevere smiles, then glances over at Lance, alerting Arthur that they are not alone.

"Oh, hello," Arthur says, dropping his hands.

Lancelot looks very puzzled, staring wide-eyed at this strange blonde man who has just strode in here and kissed Gwen, _his_ Gwen, right in front of him.

"Um, Lance, this is my husband, Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, Lancelot Santiago. He's a bakery supply salesman," Guinevere says, trying to contain her joy over the timing of Arthur's arrival. _Thank you thank you thank you._

"Hey, nice to meet you, Lancelot," Arthur cheerfully says, extending his hand.

Lance shakes his hand, looking slightly thrown. "Um, Lance is fine... oh, nice to meet you, too. I..." He breaks off, dropping his hand and shaking his head slightly. He looks at Guinevere. "You're married?"

"Just recently, yes," she answers, standing close to her husband. She realizes she is quite comfortable with_ Arth__ur_ being in her personal space.

"You never told me you were dating someone," he says.

Arthur glances at Guinevere and sees her slightly-hidden discomfort. "I'm sorry, should she have?" he asks Lance. Then, he turns to his wife. "Forgive me, Love, is he a mate of yours? I shouldn't just _assume_ he's only a business associate simply because you haven't_ told _me otherwise," he pointedly says.

"As I said, he is a bakery supply salesman," Guinevere confirms. "I'm sorry if you were looking for more, Lance," she tells him.

"Um, right. Well. Yes. This is awkward," Lance says, taking a couple of steps towards the door. "Um, congratulations... nice to meet you. See you next month, Gwen."

"Okay," she answers. Lance disappears, and she turns to Arthur. "Your timing is impeccable," she says, heavily exhaling. "I think he was about to finally ask me out. He's been working up to it for months now."

Arthur looks down at her, gently wiping a spot of flour from her cheekbone. "Would you have said yes if I wasn't in the picture?" he calmly asks. There is no trace of jealousy in his tone or demeanor. He's simply curious.

"No," Guinevere answers. "He's handsome, sure, but kind of gets on my nerves."

He laughs. "Pushy?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "Thankfully, not pushy about chatting me up, but pushy about trying to get me to use pre-made frozen dough and individually portioned and frozen cookie dough."

"Really? Does he not understand the concept of a bakery?" he asks.

"I don't know," she answers. "I mean, he's probably _supposed_ to try and up-sell, but how many times does he have to hear me say 'no'?"

"Well," Arthur says, thinking, "after today, he may not bother you about anything at all."

Guinevere snorts a small laugh. "Maybe. We'll see. Are you getting anything today? I've just made some roasted garlic bagels your father might like," she offers, pointing to a rack. "I think they're probably cool enough now. Since he liked the onion ones, I thought these might appeal. Kind of the same flavor group."

"Hmm, quite possibly. I'll take a couple of those – I'm rather intrigued by them as well. What else do you have?"

He chooses a selection of bagels from the ones she still has in the back, and she boxes them up for him.

"See you at lunch?" he asks.

"Of course. What are your thoughts on burgers?"

"I am generally in favor of them," he answers, smiling. "Sounds good."

"Okay." She leans up and kisses him, careful not to get his suit dirty. As always.

"I love visiting you here, but one of these days I'm going to come in dressed casually so I can put my arms around you and not care about getting dirty," he quietly says, letting his forehead gently fall against hers. She giggles and he kisses her one more time before turning to go. He stops a few steps away from the door and looks back. "Oh yes, um, I wanted to ask you. I'd like to order you a credit card... if it's all right. I just thought that if you need to buy something for the house... you know... like food, or paint, or... just anything, well..."

Guinevere pauses a moment, unsure how she feels about this. "So, this would be one of your cards with my name on it?" she asks.

"Um, yeah. If you don't want one, that's fine, but... I'd like for you to have it."

His trust in her is almost overwhelming. "All right, but..."

"But?"

"But, I don't feel right if you pay for everything. I don't have the income you do, but I want to feel like I'm contributing something." She knows he would be more than happy to look after her every need. She knows she could quit her job and they could live quite comfortably on his income and inheritance from his mother. She also knows she wouldn't be happy with such an arrangement.

"Of course," he says, smiling. "I completely understand that."

"You're going to be late," she says, returning his smile.

"So, I'll be late," he shrugs, walking towards her again. She meets him halfway and kisses him two more times. "I'll call the credit card company when I get to the office," he says. He gives her one more kiss, then leaves the kitchen to pay for his bagels and head to work.

xXx

_ Elyan sent a text just when I finished preparing dinne__r._

I'll call when I can. Have had terrible reception and my phone is on its last legs anyway. Recording a new album, so been sleeping when not in studio. Almost done tho. Love you.

_ I didn't realize they were recording another album. That means they're in L.A. I would have thought he'd have decent coverage there, but what do I know? If his phone is dying, it could compound thing_s_._

_ Good to hear from him though. I kno__w while reco__rding__, they're in t__he studio pretty mu__ch __24/7__. __ I remember he told me that last time._

_ If I don't hear from him in a week or so, I'll try again. Give him some time to get his phone sorted._

_ I want to tell him. I do.__ I do, and I don't. I'd be lying if I said Uther's reaction didn't make me feel a bit more skittish about telling Elya__n__. Not that he's anything like Uther, it's just... he's all the family I have left. If he were to disapprove or turn his back on me over this, it would kill me. I barely see or hear from him as it is, but I know he loves me. He did so much for me after Dad died (and Mum, too, actually), that the thought of possibly disappointing him... it makes me feel very small_.

_ I only wish I was as brave and confident as __Arthur. I mean, I really like him, and I think we could really work, but I just can't... I don't know. I can't figure out how to explain to another person why I married him only a few hours after we met._

_ Arthur told his father he doesn't need to know why or understand. I don't know if I could say that to my brother._

_ Thanks to Elyan's work schedule and faulty phone, I have some time to try and sort it out. __But__ now, I need to go to bed._


	7. Chapter 7

_22 May_

_ Arthur is late. Like, over an hour late. I wound up picking at my dinner while obsessively looking at my mobile. I tried calling him, but it went to voicemail. I left a message saying I was just wondering when I could expect him home. I hope I didn't sound too weird or annoying. I hate leaving voicemail messages. I'm so bad at it. Plus, I don't want to sound like a clingy wife. That's why I didn't call his mobile again or try his office._

_ I made him a plate and put it in the microwave so he can reheat it when he comes home._

_ If he comes home._

_ Don't be stupid. Of course, he'll come home._

_ Unless he's trapped in the twisted wreckage of his car somewhere._

_ Or being held hostage in his office building._

_ Or unconscious and tied up in the back of a van._

_ Or chopped up in pieces and scattered in the forest to be discovered in two weeks by some unsuspecting jogger._

_ Damn it._

_ Where is he?_

_ I don't like this feeling._

_ Every sound makes me jump. My imagination has taken my logic and tied it up in a corner._

_ Like Arthur might be, in an abandoned warehouse somewhere..._

Tito barks and scampers to the door, making Guinevere jump. She almost cries with relief when she hears Arthur's voice.

"Hi, boy," he greets Tito. "Guinevere, I'm ho— oof!" Arthur's words are cut off as she leaps into his arms, practically strangling him with her hug. "Guinevere?" he asks, confused.

She releases him, and now that she knows he's alive and unharmed, Anger appears, rudely shoving Worry to the side. "Where have you been?" she asks, blinking back the tears stinging her eyes. "I was driving myself mad with worry!"

Arthur blinks, furrowing his brows. "Didn't you get my text?" he asks.

"Obviously not," she answers, marching into the kitchen to retrieve her phone. He follows. She hands him her mobile. He sees the last text she had received from him was the one he sent just before lunch, confirming their meeting place.

"I texted you at around 3:30 that I was going to be late, Love," he says, handing the device back.

Her anger melts and she frowns at it, willing it to display the missing text. "You did?" she asks, a tear slipping out. "Did... did you get my call tonight? I left a voicemail... I mean, I _thought _I did... I mean, I definitely did, but if this thing is acting up..." She sets the phone on the table with a little more force than necessary.

He reaches up and wipes the tears from her cheeks before carefully wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry I made you worry," he softly says. "And, I saw that you called, but Father rang me the second I left the building – I was just about to ring you back – and wouldn't stop talking until I was in the garage. By that point I figured I was going to see you in ten seconds, so I didn't listen to your voicemail."

"Why didn't I get your text?" she asks, frowning. He releases her and lifts her phone from the table.

"I don't know. I'm going to try turning it off and back on," he says, pressing the button.

"Are... are you hungry?" she asks, growing slightly embarrassed by her behavior. _He's okay. It was a misunderstanding. Technical glitch._

_ He's okay. Am I?_

"Yeah," he answers, turning her phone over in his hands, letting it remain off for a short time. "Did you save me something?"

"Of course," she says, poking the buttons on the microwave. "Um, I feel kind of foolish now," she admits.

He powers her phone back on, leaving it on the table as he walks over to her. "You have no reason to feel foolish, Guinevere," he says. "For all you knew, I had... I don't know, run off with some other woman, or something."

"Oh, God, I didn't even think of that one!" she exclaims, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

Arthur kisses her forehead. "Exactly how many horrible deaths did I suffer?" he asks, caressing her cheek.

"A few," Guinevere says, leaning forward, her head falling against his chest. "Car wreck. Hostage situation. Kidnapped. Um... chopped up into pieces by a serial killer..."

He pulls her into his arms just as the microwave dings. "I'm sorry, Love. I should have known something was wrong when you didn't reply," he says. "I should have followed up."

Then, Guinevere's phone receives a text notification. Then, another. "I have a tenner that says one of those is your message," she says, sighing. She steps over and reaches for her phone while Arthur retrieves his dinner.

"Yes, here it is," she says, sitting at the table with her husband while he eats. "'Going to be late. Cenred insisting on meeting at 5. Go ahead and eat without me. Be home as soon as I can'," she reads. The other text is from Gwaine. It's a picture of an orangutan with a banana balanced above his upper lip like a fat yellow mustache, with the caption "Taught Benedick a new trick today." She can't even smile at it.

"How old is your mobile, Love?" Arthur asks.

"Um, a few years, I think. I probably have the paperwork somewhere," she says, setting the phone down.

"Maybe we should look at getting you an upgrade," he says. "What is the other text?"

"Gwaine, doing important work with his apes," she answers, showing him the photo.

He snorts. "Nice. Benedick?"

"Yeah, the female is Beatrice."

"He knows Shakespeare?" Arthur asks, eyebrows raised.

"He's smarter than he lets on, but his Shakespeare is a little... imprecise. He wanted to call them Romeo and Juliet. I suggested Benedick and Beatrice as a more positive alternative."

"Well, yeah, they didn't end up dead at the end," he says.

She nods, setting her phone down. They are quiet for a few minutes. Arthur doesn't mind, feeling quite comfortable sharing silence with Guinevere. Guinevere still feels tense and unsettled about the text message mishap, but tries to tamp it down.

_He's not Will. It was an honest mistake. Not his fault._

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Hmm?" she asks, her eyes focusing on his face. She hadn't realized she was staring into space.

Arthur looks slightly concerned, sets his fork down, and reaches for her hand. It's cold. "How was your day, Guinevere?"

"Fine. Nothing interesting really," she answers, looking down.

"Guinevere," he says, ducking his head to try to catch her eyes.

He's said her name in that soft, tender tone that makes her melt, and she looks up at him.

"Something's troubling you," he gently says, pushing his plate aside to take both her hands in his.

"It's nothing big. You should finish your dinner," she weakly says.

"I'm finished," he says. His dinner is only half-eaten.

"You—" she starts to protest, but stops, realizing it won't do any good. Realizing he genuinely _wants_ to know what's troubling her so much that dinner is no longer important to him. Realizing _he's not bloody Will._ She sighs. "I was so worried, but... I didn't want to seem, you know..."

"What?" he asks, still gently holding her hands.

"Clingy. Needy." Her voice is small.

Arthur blinks, slightly puzzled, then says, "I'm your husband and you are my wife. We are supposed to need one another. Besides, you had every right to be worried. You didn't know where I was and couldn't get a hold of me. I think it's quite reasonable of you to be worried about me."

"I... I don't want you to feel like I'm, you know, being overbearing. Like, mothering you," Guinevere says. She was hesitant to use the word "mothering" considering Arthur's family history, but really, it's the only word she could find.

He kisses her hands, stands, puts his plate in the sink, then offers her his hand.

She is confused, but takes it anyway, and allows him to pull her to her feet. He leads her up to their bedroom.

"Arthur?" she asks.

He bends down and kisses her. "It's getting late, Love. Get ready for bed, and then we'll talk some more, okay?"

"But..."

"I don't think you're overbearing or treating me like a child, just so you know," he says. "I'm glad you worried, to be honest. It shows that you care about me." He guides her to the closet where her pajamas are, and kisses her cheek. "I simply wish to know what is making you feel this way," he softly says.

"Um..." she starts.

He kisses her lips. "We'll talk in bed. Because, apparently, that's what we do, right?" he asks, smiling down at her.

_I suppose we do._ She nods, reaches for her pajamas, and he returns to the bedroom to change.

A few minutes later, she slides into bed but stays sitting up.

"Ex-boyfriend," she says before he can ask. While she readied for bed, she tried to think of a way to explain. How to broach the subject. _Not that it's really a big deal or anything. It was bound to come up at some point, and I wasn't planning on keeping it from him._

In the end, she realized the subject had already been broached, so she decided to launch right in.

"I figured as much," he says. Usually, he is sitting up in bed watching television when they turn in. Tonight, the TV remains off.

"His name was Will," she says. "Well, it still _is_ Will, he's not dead or anything... um... I was just out of university. Met him at a pub. I was working at Albion Foods, and it was at one of those after work get-together things. I had been there three months and finally decided to join in." She looks over at Arthur. "Not really my scene, to be honest, but they kept asking, you know?"

He nods. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't press her for information. He simply listens.

"So, I thought I'd go once, get them off my back, that kind of thing. I don't even drink," she says, chuckling. "I had water and was eating some really greasy pub food." She looks down, picking at the edge of the duvet. "Someone sent me a drink," she continues. "I didn't think people actually _did_ that," she chuckles, looking up at Arthur. "Have you ever?"

"No," he answers. "But, I never saw _you_ in a pub before, so..."

She smiles and nudges his shin with her toe. "I don't even remember what kind of cocktail or whatever it was, now. I sent it back, asking the barman to thank the gentleman, but to please tell him I do not drink." She pauses, chuckling. "Funny thing is, I _do_ remember what the barman said. He looked at me and said, 'I told him you were having water, but he didn't seem to think it mattered.' Two minutes later, Will came over and told me he liked my style, and commended me for standing by my principles."

"Interesting," Arthur comments. "Was he in marketing, by chance? Sales?"

"Close. Public relations," Guinevere says, laughing a little. "I'm well aware of his calculated tactics now, just so you know."

He nods and holds his hand out, palm up, offering it to her.

She takes his hand and continues. "Anyway, we got to talking, eventually exchanged numbers, all the normal stuff," she says. "And, now comes the part where I say, 'At first...'"

He smiles and kisses her hand. "Of course," he says, smiling.

"_At first_, it was great. He was nice. Treated me well, practically bent over backwards to make me happy. He listened when I complained about my troubles at work, but... thinking back, he didn't offer any advice. Didn't try to help me deal with the issues I was having there. That would have been much more supportive than just giving me sympathy and a placating, 'Maybe tomorrow will be better.'" She sighs. "Then, around the six month mark, he started seeming... I don't know, _less_ interested in making me happy. Wait. This sounds really self-centered, doesn't it?"

He shakes his head. "I know what you mean," he says. "Please, go on."

"We had reached that stage in our relationship where we had things at each other's places. Toothbrushes, pajamas, those kinds of things. The topic of moving in together had come up once or twice, but never seriously. He gradually became less available, both physically and emotionally. I'd call him, he wouldn't return my call, and I'd call again – _hours_ later, mind – and he'd act like I was stalking him. I'd ask about his day, you know, like we do, simply making conversation, and he became more and more vague. If I tried to draw him out, he would only retreat further. I thought he might have been seeing someone else, actually."

"I'm sorry, Guinevere," Arthur says, keeping his tone soft despite the anger he feels rising in him at this man.

"Thank you," Guinevere answers, smiling at him. "Finally, after a day and a half of him dodging my calls and texts, I kind of snapped."

"Good," he blurts. "Sorry. I mean not good that it came to that, but good that you decided to do something."

"I know what you mean," she echoes, smiling again. "I rung his mate, Simon, and he told me where I could find Will."

"Where was he?"

She looks straight at him and says, "At his flat."

Arthur's eyebrows raise and he blinks once, slowly, mouth slightly open.

"I know, right? So, I went there, ready for a fight. Thankfully, he was alone, but as soon as I tried to speak, _he_ laid into _me_. Called me 'clingy' and 'needy' and said he didn't need to report back to me about every move he makes."

"What a tosser," Arthur says. _How could he treat her like that?_

"Yeah. I tried to explain that I wasn't 'keeping tabs' on him or anything, but it would be nice to hear from my bloody _boyfriend_ more than once every two days. He told me I was smothering him and then said, 'I already have one mother, Gwen. I don't need two.'" Arthur winces. "I marched into his bedroom, grabbed my pajamas and slippers, picked up the book I had loaned him off the coffee table – he was only a third of the way through it – told him he was back down to one mum, and left."

"I'm glad," he says. "Not only for selfish reasons, but because you didn't deserve that kind of treatment, Guinevere. No one does."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"You probably already came to this conclusion, but it sounds to me like he was afraid to make a commitment," he says.

She nods. "Yeah, I pretty much realized that immediately."

"What a child," he says, scowling. "What an absolute wank."

"You're angry," she says, realizing.

"Well, yeah, I'm angry. Like I said, you didn't deserve that. You deserve so much better. The best," he says, his face softening again.

Her heart melts. "Thank you," she whispers. "I… I'm not mad at him anymore. It's so over and done. It's just… tonight, when I couldn't find you, well, it took me by surprise. How I felt, that is. The experience must have affected me more than I realized. I was worried, but…" she pauses, realizing exactly how _much_ she was worried. The thought of Arthur being gone scared her a lot more than she was expecting.

"But?" he prompts.

"Sorry," she says. "I was worried, but I felt… _guilty_ about being worried. Like it wasn't my place."

He releases her hand and holds his arm out, silently asking her to come to his side. She immediately scoots closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her. "It is _most definitely_ your place. And, I know I said it already, but I'm sorry I didn't try again when I didn't hear from you."

"I know. Thank you. I do understand that you are a busy man and may have been doing things like, oh, _work_, and following up with me maybe wasn't in the forefront of your mind," she says.

He smiles and kisses the top of her head. "Nevertheless, you are my wife and my priority, even over my job. It won't happen again, I promise."

_Wow._ Her heart thumps a little harder. She can't think of anything to say in response, so she leans up and kisses his lips, blinking back tears.

"Oh, Love," he says, seeing her glassy eyes. One tear escapes, and he thumbs it away, kissing her again.

"I wasn't expecting to feel like this," she says. "It was years ago."

"It was a long relationship," he says. "Bound to leave a few marks."

Guinevere nods and puts her head back down on his shoulder. She wants to tell him how the depth of her worry for him surprised her more than anything, how she nearly made herself crazy envisioning what her life would be if he was gone, even though she's only had him in it a short time. She wants to say all this, but the words just won't come. She opens her mouth a couple of times, but closes it again. Finally, she whispers, "I was _really_ worried about you, Arthur," hoping her meager words will convey something of what she was feeling.

"I know, Love," he says. "I can tell." He kisses the top of her head again and holds her closer. "Do you feel better now?"

She nods. "I do. And, for the record, I know you're not Will."

"I know you know," he replies, smiling.

"Thank you for listening to me," she says.

"Always," he answers, leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft, languid kiss.

Tito chooses that moment to get out of his bed and start prancing in front of the door. "We forgot to let Tito out before we came up here," Arthur sighs. "I'll take him." He quickly kisses her, then goes to deal with the dog. "Come on, you…"

When he returns, Guinevere is still sitting up, waiting for him. He slides back into bed and they lie down, cuddled together.

"Heh," she chuckles. "I just realized I went from a man who was afraid to make a commitment to one who was immediately willing to jump into one with both feet."

"Wait, you haven't had any boyfriends since him?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Not really. After I left Albion, one of my former office mates asked me out. We dated for a few weeks, but it just didn't work."

"Good of him to wait until you were no longer coworkers, I guess," Arthur says.

"Yeah. Simon asked me out once."

"Really? Doesn't that go against some sort of code?" he asks.

"I thought so," she answers. "I turned him down anyway, because it was just too weird. I mean, he was nice enough, and not bad looking or anything, but… yeah, just, no." Arthur nods, understanding. "Went on a few dates. I don't think I went on more than two with any one guy. It's not like I had a string of suitors or anything. My schedule doesn't really allow for it, you know?" She smiles and snuggles closer, settling in more as she begins to realize how tired she is. "Occasionally, a bloke will come into the bakery and think he's more charming than he really is. That's why I tend to stay in the back, actually. Then, some random man chatted me up in the most ridiculous way at the park, and..."

"Hang on!" he says, laughing.

She hugs him. "Thank you, again, Arthur. I... I really do feel better having shared all of this with you."

"You're welcome. I'm very glad you feel better," he says.

After a moment, Guinevere speaks again. "You can turn on the telly if you'd like."

Arthur doesn't answer right away. Instead of reaching for the remote, he speaks. "I've never understood that whole 'fear of commitment' issue," he says. "Um, obviously," he adds, softly clearing his throat. He continues, his voice low and almost dreamlike. "Honestly, what is there to fear? Being happy? People are _supposed_ to pair off. That's how it works. You wander around until you find the one person who is carrying the missing piece of your soul, and if you're fortunate enough to also be carrying theirs, you hold onto one another. Yes, sometimes it takes a few tries, but... there's certainly nothing to fear."

She looks up at him, surprised at the depth and honesty of his words. _Is this how he feels about me? That I am carrying the missing piece of his soul?_ He notices her looking at him, and smiles down at her.

"Arthur..."

He blinks. "Did I overwhelm you?"

"What you said was beautiful," she says. She wants to ask him if this is really how he feels about her, but thinks she knows the answer.

He kisses her nose. "I was just rambling," he says.

"_That_ was rambling?" she asks. "My rambles never sound that good. Most of the time, they barely make sense."

He chuckles. "Perhaps 'rambling' wasn't quite the right word," he allows, and leans down to kiss her again, slowly and deeply, pulling her over him, his hand sliding down her back as hers skims across his chest.

"Sorry I freaked out on you," Guinevere whispers, leaning her head back as he trails kisses down her neck.

"You don't need to apologize, Guinevere," Arthur answers, looking up at her. Then, he rolls them so he is on top, and resumes kissing her neck, bestowing soft, wet kisses down to her collarbone. She sighs and he lifts his head. "I'm sorry I gave you a reason to freak out," he softly says, lightly sucking her lower lip.

"I forgive you, though it wasn't your fault." She fully returns her lips to his, kissing him for a few long, sweet moments. "I'm just glad you're home, safe and sound," she says after they part, touching her forehead to his for a moment before sliding back down to his side.

"You're tired," he assesses, leaning over to kiss the top of her head again as he gives her a squeeze. "Oh, dear, it's late for you, isn't it?"

"I'll live," she says, her voice heavy with sleep.

As she drifts, she hears Arthur turn the television on, the volume very low.

_I do hope Arthur carries the missing piece of my soul._ It's the last coherent thought Guinevere has before she succumbs to slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

_27 May_

_ I got a new mobile over the weekend. We did some "test" texts and calls with Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin, and there were enough that did not __go__ through to cause concern. So, we took it to have it checked and learned my phone was basically bollocksed up._

_ That's a technical term._

_ So, new phone, no more missed communications. Th__is__ makes me happy._

_ Arthur was in court Friday and Monday on the case __for__ that Cenred bloke. Thankfully, they won, and so today he took the day off. Which i__s__ what he was doing the day we met. He says he likes to decompress and just relax after finishing a case. I can understand that. He is very good at leaving work at work, but I could tell this was a really important case. He was exhausted Friday night._

_ We had a good weekend. Did a lot of work in the garden. Arthur was eager to help in any way he could, despite knowing nothing at all about plants. I tried to have him pull weeds, but he kept asking me, "Is this a weed?" Well-intentioned, but distracting. Once we determined that he knows what dandelions, thistles, and grass all look like, he concentrated on pulling those._

_ Sunday, I had him doing manly things like trimming tree branches and moving big rocks. His willingness to help was very sweet. And, I think he liked showing off how strong he is._

_ I think _I_ liked watching him work._

_ Maybe a little too much, as evidenced by our activities that night. My shirt may not have been completely off, but it was bloody close._

_ What was I talking about?_

_ Oh, yeah._

_ Arthur was snoring when I left for work this morning. I wanted to stay in bed with him more so than usual. Probably because I knew he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't stop in at the bakery either, but he did have lunch waiting for me when I got home, which was nice._

_ After my (shorter than customary) nap, he asked me if I would like to go furniture shopping. So, we went furniture shoppin__g__. Found a table that is actually the right size for the dining room. We looked at furniture for the parlor as well, but decided to wait __before purchasing any pieces__. There's really terrible wallpaper in there that needs to come down, then the walls will need painting, and I'm thinking about peeling up the carpet to see what's underneath as well. So, furniture would just be in the way right now._

_ We also bought new towels and accessories for the master bathroom. Now,_ _everything matches and it no longer looks like a university student's loo._

_ It was a really good day. We had a lot of fun. Arthur is great to be with, and I don't get tired of his company, which is nice. Even Gwaine starts to wear on me after a while, and he's my closest friend_.

_ We decided to get Chinese food and bring it home to eat..._

"What time is the table being delivered tomorrow?" Arthur asks, taking the dishcloth Guinevere offers him.

"Between two and four," she answers, putting the boxes in the fridge. She turns around and sees Arthur wiping down the table, noting how she can see his back muscles flexing beneath his t-shirt, how well-shaped his backside is beneath his plaid shorts, how she can see the waistband of his red boxer briefs peeking above the waistband. The little strip of skin exposed by his shirt slightly riding up as he leans forward. The definition of the triceps in the back of his arm. The soft blonde hair brushing the back of his neck.

She smiles, remembering the wonderful afternoon they had together. Realizing the last three weeks have been really great. Feeling a warm, new swell of affection for her husband.

She doesn't even realize she's walking towards him until he turns around and startles.

"Guinev—"

She suddenly kisses him, pressing her body against his, one hand sliding into his hair.

Arthur drops the dishcloth and fists the back of her shirt with both hands, responding to and matching her ardor.

"Guinevere," he gasps, tearing his lips away for a moment, "what...?"

"Arthur," she answers, trying not to lose her nerve. _I want him. I really do._ "Arthur, I... I want..."

He understands, his eyes widening. "You do?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting almost to his hairline.

"Yes," she breathes. Then, her nerve starts to falter. "I mean, if you— oh!"

Arthur bends down and picks her up, slinging her over his shoulder like a fireman, and carries her upstairs.

Guinevere takes advantage of her position and squeezes his backside as he walks into the bedroom.

"Grabby," he comments, chuckling as he drops her on the bed with surprising gentleness. "Of course, you can grab all you want," he adds, smiling devilishly down at her. He joins her on the bed, helping her shove the covers back before they tumble across the mattress, limbs tangling, lips crashing.

She runs her fingers into his hair as his hand slips under her shirt. Their kisses turn hungrier, their hands bolder. She can feel his arousal against her thigh and finds herself pressing against it once or twice, savoring the groans her actions bring forth.

He kisses down her neck to her collarbone and lower, lips skimming the tops of her breasts along the edge of her scoop-necked shirt.

"Oh..." she sighs, lightly raking his scalp with the short fingernails of one hand while she pulls at her shirt with the other.

Arthur lifts his head and helps her pull the shirt off. Guinevere tosses it carelessly aside while he unclasps her bra.

"You first," she says with a grin, not removing her bra until he removes his shirt.

"You've already seen mine," he says, quickly yanking his shirt off and throwing it in the same direction of her shirt.

She giggles and kisses him, slyly discarding her bra while their eyes are closed.

His hand finds her breast so quickly she realizes she probably wasn't quite as sly as she thought. It doesn't matter anyway, because he's laying her back on the bed, kissing down her neck, his target very clear. He closes his lips over her waiting nipple, now free of barriers. He hums contentedly, sliding his tongue around the stiffened peak while his hand attends the other.

He's been here before, Saturday night, in fact, but it seems so much _better_ this time.

Guinevere softly whimpers, pressing her thigh against his manhood again. Arthur groans in response, a delicious sound that makes her stomach wobble and her jean Capris feel like they are too tight, too thick, too... _unnecessary_. She moves her hands to the button at her waist, popping it open.

He notices this and lifts up, gently replacing her hands with his, pulling down the zipper. He bends and kisses her stomach before hooking his fingers into the waistband. She lifts her hips, and he pulls her Capris and panties down at the same time. Then, he hops off the bed and removes his shorts and boxer briefs, his eyes never leaving her.

She boldly watches him as well, not hiding her appraisal at all as she drinks his body in with her eyes.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers, crawling over her, kissing her knee, thigh, hipbone, stomach, and breast before returning to her lips, settling close at her side.

"Thank you," she answers. "Um, you are, too," she adds, skimming her hand down his stomach, loving how his body reacts to her touch. Her questing fingers find him against her hip and wrap around his girth, squeezing lightly, then sliding once.

"Oh," he grunts, weakened by her touch. "Guinevere..."

He kisses her again, his hips pressing into her hand, his fingers slipping between her legs. He slides a finger into her folds and finds her warm, wet, and as responsive to his touch as he is to hers.

"Mmm," she moans, tilting her hips into his hand.

"God," he gasps, tearing his lips away to travel down her neck once again, moving lower. He only briefly lingers at her breasts before feathering kisses over her stomach. She is forced to release him from her grasp because she can no longer reach him as he settles between her legs, kissing her thigh.

"Arthur..." she breathes his name, her hand pulling upwards on his shoulder.

_Perhaps not._ "Too much?" he asks, shifting, crawling up over her again.

"Not enough," she insists, hooking her leg around his, kissing him. "Just... I need... want..." She snakes her hand down again and grasps his shaft, moving it into position as she strokes him.

He groans, struggling to maintain clarity for one more question. "Guinevere... I have some... in the drawer. I know you're on the pill, but if you want me to..."

"It's all right," she says, guiding him closer and sliding the tip of his member along her folds, tormenting them both.

"Ohhh..." He almost collapses over her. "You're sure?" he asks, his voice breathy, his head on her shoulder.

"_Yes_, Arthur," she answers. His lips find her neck, sucking lightly at the spot where it meets her shoulder. "Please," she adds, placing him right where she wants him.

Arthur lifts his head, kissing her as he thrusts forward, entering smoothly. They groan in unison as they kiss, then Arthur pulls his lips away. "Good," he croaks, braced on one hand while the other caresses her cheek before skimming down her neck to her breast.

"Yeah," Guinevere throatily agrees, hitching her knees up onto his hips to allow him to go deeper. He grunts softly and happily obliges. Her fingers dig into his back, then she flattens her hands, running her palms over his skin. She moves them around to his chest, then up to his shoulders and back down again, wanting to touch everywhere at once. Finally, she settles her hands on his cheeks and pulls his face down to hers again, kissing him deeply and with abandon.

It's been a while for her, but she doesn't remember it ever feeling _this_ good before. She's plummeting quickly, his lips on her neck and hand on her breast working in conjunction with his hips to bring her to the pinnacle of sensation faster than she ever has been.

"Oh... _oh..._" she gasps, one hand in his hair, lightly tugging the soft strands while the other clutches his neck.

He flicks his thumb across her nipple a few times, even hunching down to briefly pull the hardened nub into his mouth.

She suddenly bucks beneath him, crying out wordlessly, clutching his head against her breast. Her thighs tighten around his hips, and he pauses in his thrusts for a few seconds, letting her recover a little.

"Oh, my God, you're still going." The words tumble from her lips as she exhales, and she realizes them too late. "I mean..."

Arthur chuckles, kisses her ardently, and resumes his movements, slow and gentle at first.

"Oh..." Guinevere moans, running her hands down his back to clutch his buttocks, pushing slightly. He takes the hint and moves faster and with a bit more force. "Mmm."

"Oh, yeah," he agrees, leaning back a bit, gripping her hips, and pulling her up to meet him. Overwhelmed by the _feel_ of her, his eyes close, but he wants to keep them open to watch her, his beautiful wife, writhing beneath him in the throes of passion.

He knows he's close, but he wants to try to bring her to a second climax, so he moves one hand between them. His thumb finds the spot he wants and softly flicks against it, and she cries out.

She can feel her body quickening – again – and gasps in surprise, eyes widening. _Again? Is he for real?_

"Oh, God..." she moans, her back arching, thighs quivering.

He picks up his pace still more, his thumb faltering for just a moment, but she falls again seconds later, crying out his name as she grips his sides.

He follows quickly, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. He sweeps his tongue through her mouth as his body stills, manhood pulsing within her. "Oh..." he exhales, his body going slack.

Arthur gently disengages himself and moves to her side, tucking her against him so her head is pillowed on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around his lovely wife, holding her in a tight hug, practically pulling her on top of him.

Guinevere kisses him once more, attempting to gather her disorderly hair so it doesn't fall onto his face. She slightly lifts up, looking down at him. He grins a satisfied, slightly goofy smile at her, and she can't help but smile back at him. Not knowing what to say, she scoots down and lies against her husband again, hooking her foot over his leg.

"Um, wow," she says. _Didn't I say that after we kissed the first time? He probably thinks I have no vocabulary._ "That was..." She exhales, giving up. "Wow."

"I'm glad you think so, and yes, it was," he simply says. "I'm also glad you enjoyed it."

"I've never... twice... like that," she admits, blushing and attempting to hide her face, tucking it under his chin.

"Don't hide, Love," he whispers, "you never need to hide from me." He ducks his head and nudges her nose with his own, and she lifts her head enough to receive his kiss. "Besides, I make no guarantees that'll happen _every_ time," he says, grinning at her.

She giggles and relaxes, cuddling against his side.

They lie quietly for a few moments, her hand on his chest, his hand on her hip.

She feels his lips brush her forehead.

Arthur breaks the silence with four words that are spoken very quietly, but resonate very loudly in Guinevere's head.

"I love you, Guinevere."

She softly gasps, holding her breath a moment as she ponders how to respond. _I have no idea what to say. I'm not completely surprised to learn this, but... I don't know exactly how I feel yet. I know I like him. A lot. __A_lot_ a lot. I wouldn't have taken this step with him if I didn't._

He leans down and kisses her forehead again, brushing her hair away from her face. "You don't have to say anything back. I just wanted you to know," his voice tenderly continues, his lips brushing her skin as he speaks.

She can tell by his tone he is not hurt that she didn't answer in kind, but she can't help feeling she's disappointed him, even if only a little. "I'm s—"

"Shh," he gently interrupts. "You don't need to apologize, honest." He lifts her chin and kisses her again. "I know I probably shouldn't have said it, but it was getting hard to keep in."

She nods against his shoulder. "I remember what you said about not keeping things from each other," she says. _I feel like such a jerk. I want to say it, but I'm just not sure yet._

"Now that it's out though," he pauses, tracing her cheek with his finger, "I'll probably say it again. But, I don't want you to think I'm, you know, trying to get you to say it before you're ready."

She nods. "Okay," she answers, unable to come up with a better response.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, you know that, but..."

"I know. I don't want you to feel like you need to watch what you say," she replies.

Arthur smiles and kisses her once more, longer this time, pulling away only when Guinevere moans softly.

They settle back in, his fingers skimming her hip in feather-light caresses, drawing mindless patterns on her skin for a time. "I feel the inexplicable urge to also say 'thank you,' but I'm not sure why," he says after a moment, his voice lighter.

Guinevere laughs. "I was thinking the same thing," she says. "Like 'thank you' was on the tip of my tongue, but I stopped it because I couldn't figure out _why_ I was thanking you." She looks up at him and kisses him once more, then moves slightly. "I'll be right back," she says, and he flops his arm away to allow her to rise.

Arthur watches her head for the bathroom, taking the opportunity to appreciate the back view.

She returns shortly, hair braided but still naked, not even pretending she isn't staring at him, lying in bed with his hands clasped behind his head, biceps bulging next to his ears, broad chest leading to narrow hips where his now-relaxed member rests against his hip, and long, muscular legs crossed at the ankles. _He really is something to see._

Meanwhile, he decides that no matter how good the back view was, the front view is definitely his favorite, with her lovely face, delicate collarbones, pert breasts perfectly sized for his hands with dark nipples which respond to his every touch; her narrow waist and flat stomach that flare out into lovely rounded hips flanking a small patch of dark curls; her slender, shapely legs and little toes to which he decides he needs to pay attention one day.

By the time she slips back into bed beside him, he's half-erect, but he doesn't know if she has noticed. He leaves the decision about Round Two up to her. _It's getting late though,_ he notes, looking at the clock.

Arthur pulls the blankets up over them, kisses her once more, a slow, languid kiss, and whispers, "Get some sleep, Love."

"I'll try," Guinevere says, the corner of her lip curling into a tiny smile. She snuggles against him, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers, and closes her eyes, telling her hand to stay put on his chest and _not_ travel below his waist.

Her hand doesn't listen.

xXx

_ It's 2:30 in the morning, but I couldn't sleep, even though I'm still_ _exhausted. Probably shouldn't have succumbed to the temptation of Round Two. Oh, well. It was worth it._

_ And, since I need to be up in half an hour anyway, I figured I'd get up, because I need to put this down while it's still fresh._

_ I'm still reeling._

_ It was amazing._

_ He loves me._

_ I guess I already knew it, but hearing it..._

_ It hurts, honestly. It hurts in a way that is so good and so painful at the same time. It makes my heart swell, soar... then run into a corner and hide._

_ It's so confusing. I'm afraid I just made things a whole lot more complicated by taking this step. But... I'm not sorry we did it._

_ I really do like __Arthur__ a lot. More than I liked Will. More than I liked Timmy Brown in third grade, and that's saying something. I like him more than I've ever liked anyone. I think so, anyway._

_ But, do I love him? I love being with him. I love how he_ _makes me feel like the most important person in the world. I love how he says my name. I miss him when I'm not with him._

_ But, is that love? Will it last, or is it still new? We're – h__a__ – still in the "honeymoon phase" of our relationship, which is actually an accurate term for us._

_ Why did he say it? Okay, I know why. He's probably wanted to for a while, but didn't want to scare me away. Who knows?_

_ I do know he won't push me. He said it because he wanted to say it and I think he knew I couldn't say it back. He has confidence where I don't. He's sure about how he feels._

_ Well, it's not that I'm _un_sure. It's that I don't know. There's a difference. "Unsure" means I know the answer,_ _but am unable to commit to it. I don't think I know the answer right now._

_ It's scary._

_ If I'm scared, does that mean I _am _unsure and this "I don't know" idea is just an excuse?_

_ Could be._

_ All I know is he makes me feel things, both emotionally and physically, that no other man has brought out. He's completely wonderful, and sometimes I feel like he deserves more than what I am able to give him right now._

_ All I know is this is very confusing and I need to sort out my shit soon before we both get hurt beyond repair__._

_ Actually, I don't know anything._

_ Anything other than, for whatever reason, he loves me._


	9. Chapter 9

_29 May_

_ Elyan finally called yesterday morning. The band is in town today, and he has tickets plus backstage passes for Arthur and me. Thanks for those, El, but a little more notice would have been nice. Luckily, Isolde is able to cover for me Friday._

_ I'm going to have to introduce him to Arthur. I still haven't told him we're married._

_ Arthur is very excited about meeting him._

_ I feel like I'm going to throw up._

_ I need to tell him._

_ Maybe this will be better. Same logic as dealing with Uther: if there are other people around, there's less chance he'll lose it if he doesn't appro__ve._

_ Wait. Uther already knew we were married before he met me. Well, Uther wasn't happy about our marriage and Arthur wasn't exactly sure how he would behave when he met me, but... shoot. Elyan will just be finding out _and_ meeting Arthur at the same time._

_ So, it's not really the same, is it?_

_ The main issue is I don't know how he'll react. If I knew he'd be fine, great, no problem. If I knew he'd be angry, it wouldn't be good, but I would deal with it. It's not knowing for what to prepare that is so unsettling._

_ That's _one_ of the problems._

_ The other problem is being able to answer when he asks me why I married __Arthur__ only a couple of hours after meeting him. I can't put that into words, and I have a feeling "Because" is not going to be an adequate answer._

_ I can do this though. I need to. It's weighing on me. Arthur and I have agreed not to keep things from each other. The fact that I haven't told Elyan we're married_ feel_s like I'm keeping something from Arthur, even though it is news I haven't told Elyan_.

_ The concert is at 7:30. Arthur will be home soon for dinner. I don't even want to eat._

xXx

"That was _so_ good, Guinevere! I mean, I've heard them once or twice, but live is so much better," Arthur praises, having enjoyed the concert immensely. "Does he always give you such great seats?"

"Usually, yeah," Guinevere nods, leading him to the backstage area. It's familiar territory for her, but she is taking her time getting there. Elyan looked good. The band sounded good. The songs from the new album were very enjoyable, a mixture of new compositions and reworked classics.

They reach the door, and Guinevere shows their passes to the security guard who smiles at her in recognition. "Thanks," she says, stepping into the room.

Elyan spots her immediately. "Gwen!" he booms, stepping over some cords and heading towards her. He engulfs her in a tight hug, lifting her off her feet.

"Hey, El," she says, her heart pounding nervously.

He sets her down with a smile and steps over to Arthur. "You must be Arthur," he says, extending his hand.

"You must be Elyan," Arthur answers, shaking the other man's hand. Elyan is handsome and slightly muscular, but not very tall. He has a grip like a vise though, which is not unexpected considering his profession. "Quite a handshake you've got there," Arthur adds, chuckling.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "Occupational hazard."

They chat for a bit, Arthur complimenting the performance while Guinevere stands nearby. Clearly, her husband and her brother do not need any assistance getting acquainted, but she's growing uneasier as time wears on, looking for an opportunity to tell Elyan about their marriage.

"Hey, Gwen, when are you going to ditch that bakery and come sing with us?" a smooth, confident-sounding voice interrupts.

"Hello, Helios," Guinevere answers, chuckling knowingly. "Arthur, this is Helios Terence. He seems to think I should join them on the road, since he always mentions it."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur says, shaking Helios' hand. "Lead trumpet, right?"

Helios preens, smiling smugly. "You noticed. Are you a musician, Arthur?"

"Not at all," Arthur says. "I'm a barrister."

"Can't all be perfect," Helios shrugs. "So, Gwen. If you won't tour with us, you should at least come sing one song sometime. Maybe when we're in town again."

"That's not up to you, Helios," Elyan says, smiling but shaking his head. "That would be up to Bedivere, since _he's _the actual bandleader. And Helen, our resident female vocalist."

"You do have a lovely singing voice, Guinevere," Arthur says, turning to her. "Yes, I've heard you; don't look so surprised," he chuckles.

"Yeah, Gwen, you're always singing. You probably don't even realize you're doing it half the time," Elyan says. He furrows his brow. "Or, at least you used to."

"She still does. In the garden, cooking – I've gone into the bakery and heard her, in fact – cleaning, in the shower," he says casually. He glances at Guinevere and is mildly puzzled at her uncomfortable expression.

Helios laughs while Guinevere blushes.

Arthur looks from his wife to her brother, and sees Elyan's eyebrows raise just slightly as a look of surprised realization crosses his face. _What's this about?_

"As always, I appreciate the compliment, Helios, but, as always, no thank you," Guinevere says, nodding once in his direction.

"Gotta keep trying. You might say yes one day," Helios says with a wink. "Nice meeting you, Art," he says and wanders towards the back of the room.

"How long are you in town?" Guinevere asks her brother.

"Leaving tonight to head up to Scotland," he says with a sigh. "One of these days we'll take a break. Maybe once people start losing interest."

"Oh," she says, frowning. "I was hoping—"

"Oi, Elyan! Let's go! You need to get your precious bloody bass loaded up before the rest!" a voice calls, interrupting them.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on! I'm talking to my sister here!" Elyan yells back. "I need to go," he tells Guinevere. "I don't let them touch my bass," he explains to Arthur.

"Um, all right," she answers, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. It squirms and prickles like a sea urchin wrestling with a squid. "It was really good to see you. I miss you," she says, hugging him.

"I miss you, too," he says, kissing her cheek then squeezing her extra hard.

"_Elyan!_"

"Bloody..." he curses. "Arthur, nice to meet you," he extends his hand again, speaking quickly. "She's my little sister and my only family, so be good to her or I'll have your kneecaps broken."

"Understood," Arthur answers. Elyan claps him companionably on the shoulder, smiles and nods, then hurries away to load his equipment. He turns, smiles and waves at Guinevere, then returns to his work.

xXx

The ride home is very quiet. Guinevere feels ill. Her guilt over not telling Elyan the truth about Arthur is overriding her happiness at seeing her brother. She closes her eyes, exhausted and sick.

Arthur is uncharacteristically silent which only adds to the tension.

He finally speaks when they are in their room.

"Does your brother know we are married?" he quietly asks, sitting heavily on the bed. Driving home, as he played through the last few hours and their conversation with her brother, some things clicked into place. Guinevere had picked at her food and was unusually quiet during dinner. She seemed uneasy all evening, especially since intermission, and was increasingly uncomfortable when they were talking with Elyan.

She hesitates only a moment before she answers. "No," she whispers, unable to look at him.

"I thought so," he replies after a moment, staring into space. He feels like he's been punched in the stomach. "Were... were you planning on telling him at some point?"

"I wanted to tonight, but... I didn't get the opportunity," she says, knowing it's a poor excuse.

"So... 'Elyan, this is my husband, Arthur' was too complicated?" he asks, his eyes flitting to focus on her face.

His voice is quiet, but there is a tremor in it, and Guinevere winces at how hurt he is. _He has every right to be._ "Um... I..." Arthur waits, and when he doesn't speak, she presses her lips together, takes a deep breath, and continues. "Yes. I intentionally didn't tell him. I'm... I'm sorry... I just couldn't... get the words out," she admits, tears starting to escape. She squeezes her eyes shut and gingerly sits on the corner of the bed.

For a long moment, Arthur says nothing, summoning the courage to ask his next question. "Do you regret it? Marrying me?"

"No!" she opens her eyes and finally looks at him.

He looks up, and the tears in his eyes break her heart. "Then, why do you act as though you do? As if you're ashamed of it? Of us?"

"Because..." she starts, stops, and starts again. _Be honest._ "Because... I feel stupid, okay? I... I don't know what he's going to say, and I don't want to have to try to explain things to him when I don't even fully understand them myself!"

_ She seemed to have no trouble telling that Lance bloke I was her husband to get him off her back._ The thought makes him feel like a total jerk, and he pushes it away. _She's not that kind of person and you know it. _"Why _did_ you agree to marry me?" he asks, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Why did you insist I did?"

A pained expression flashes across his face for a moment, her retort stinging him. "You're deflecting the question, Guinevere." He looks down at his hand, at the gold band there. He spins it around his finger. "Besides, you _know_ why."

"Yes, I do... and... it scares me, all right? I'm so bloody overwhelmed! I... I don't _know_ why I said yes!" she loudly blurts, immediately regretting her words. She claps her hands over her mouth.

Arthur looks as though he has been struck, her words stabbing him in the heart. His mouth opens and he pales, tears slipping from his eyes.

Guinevere closes her eyes, not wishing to see the pain she's caused him.

"You're overwhelmed?" he asks, his voice small.

"I didn't mean that," she says. "I..."

"I think you did," he says, looking at his hands. "I've pushed you too much..."

"No!" she immediately protests. "No," she repeats, gentler. "You haven't pushed. You've... you've been so wonderful, Arthur, and I..." Her voice fails. "I don't deserve you," she whispers.

"Guinevere..." he says, his voice trembling and breaking with desperation so raw, it causes her heart to feel as though it has stopped. "Please, don't say that..." He reaches out to her, but withdraws before touching her, fearing he'll only make things more confusing. "I... I can't say that I'm not hurt, Guinevere. I am, but that doesn't mean..." He falters, looking for words. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders how he is still seated upright and speaking. _How is it that I am still functioning, still breathin__g?_

Guinevere looks at her husband. He looks so desolate. Hurt. Betrayed. _Because of me. _Arthur sags, his head dropping between his shoulders. "Is there anything I... or, we c—" he starts to ask, but he is startled into silence when she suddenly stands, wringing her hands. She looks at the floor, then her eyes briefly flicker to the door.

"I... I should go..." She swipes at the tears on her cheeks, and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she whispers, choking back a sob. She quickly turns and moves toward the closet.

Arthur's breath abandons him as she walks away. _She's leaving? She... she can't leave._ He stands and follows her. "Guinevere."

She turns to see him standing in the doorway of the closet. His eyes are red and glassy. "I..." she says, a duffel bag in her hands. "I just..."

_I don't know what to do. _He understands he can't push. He could plead with her, beg her to stay, but he somehow knows it will only make things worse. _I'd be pushing more if I did that._ He can only think of one thing to say which might stop his greatest fear from coming true. He swallows hard. "I'll go. You stay here."

"N-no, I should. This is your house," Guinevere answers, hating the way her voice sounds when she cries.

_I thought it was _our_ house... our home. Steady, Man. She needs you to be strong for her._ "You already gave notice on your flat. You don't have anywhere to go. I can go to Father's or Merlin's," he reasons.

"I'll go to Gwaine's," she says, dropping some items into a bag.

"Gwaine lives in a tiny one-bedroom with lawn furniture in his living room," he says, stepping into the large walk-in closet. He takes a deep breath. "I think you need time to figure out what you want, and... I think I'll be a distraction."

"Arthur, I..." she starts, but doesn't know how to continue. _He understands me better than I do._

"Guinevere, just... don't say any more right now. Please. Stay here and think. I'll get out of your way so you can." He pauses, swallowing hard. "I'll be at Merlin's." A tear slips from the corner of his eye.

She automatically lifts her hand to wipe his tear, but quickly drops it. She realizes how difficult this is for him, and wishes she could take it all back. She wishes she could rewind an hour – no, three weeks – and tell Elyan straight away.

The significance of Arthur going to Merlin's instead of his father's is not lost on her, and it only makes her feel smaller. _He knows Merlin won't think badly of me while Uther will._ "Okay." She nods contritely, simply abandoning the bag she had barely begun packing.

She doesn't ask him if he's sure; doesn't insist on going to Gwaine's. _He's right._ She sniffles, tears starting afresh, ducks her head, and heads out of the closet.

Arthur emerges a minute later with a garment bag and a smaller toiletry case, which he sets on his side of the bed.

Sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, Guinevere slowly draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, watching him through swollen and bleary eyes, saying nothing as he packs. She realizes she knows the way his body moves, his patterns. The way his lower lip pouts slightly when he's thinking about something. The way he folds his socks together in a bundle so they don't get separated before tucking them into his bag. The little line between his eyebrows that forms when he's troubled. It makes her heart hurt, and she wishes she could take everything back, ask him to stay, tell him she'll call Elyan right now and tell him everything. Her brain screams at her to speak, to say something, _anything_. But, the words get stuck, lodged in the tears that continue to flow down her cheeks.

He closes his garment bag with a very final-sounding zip, and the sound makes her jump. He sees her flinch and his arms ache to hold her, to pull her into his embrace, kiss her, and never let go. Instead, he simply gazes down at her through bleary eyes and slowly reaches out, softly brushing his thumb across her cheek. He feels heavy. Tired. Grief-stricken. "Guinevere, I want you to know... just because I'm leaving, giving you space... it doesn't mean I'm letting you go. I love you, and I'm not giving up on you or on us, but... if you don't know why you're with me, it's not fair to either of us to pretend we're something we're not. I'm going to Merlin's so you can have some space to think, and, well..." he stops, his voice breaking off with emotion. He clears his throat. "You know where to find me. When you're ready." He ducks his head quite suddenly, and turns away. She hears him sniffle as he walks to the door, and knows he is crying again. _Oh, God... I can't.._.

Her tears pour out as Guinevere listens to his footsteps moving down the hall and down the stairs. His footfalls are usually light and almost springy, but these steps are heavy. Weary.

_Get up, Girl! Move! Don't let him leave!_ Guinevere's body freezes, unable to obey the commands her mind is screaming. Instead, she feels herself tilting, and she falls, landing on her side.

The sound of the door closing should be soft from this distance, but it is as loud as a firecracker in Guinevere's ears. A jolt shoots through her and a deep sob escapes. It is followed by another and another until she can scarcely breathe. She curls into a ball, giving into the tidal wave of emotions – the _loss_ – that engulfs her.

_ What have I done?_


	10. Chapter 10

30 May

Guinevere startles at the sound of the door opening downstairs. She's been awake for about a half an hour, but hasn't gotten out of bed.

Needless to say, sleep was not something that came easily last night. She has never truly cried herself to sleep before, but that's precisely what happened. She woke up around midnight, still dressed, on top of the duvet, tissue clutched in her hand. Her eyes felt like they had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest.

She only vaguely remembers changing into pajamas and hastily braiding her hair.

That was the _firs__t_ time she woke up during the night.

Gwaine had sent a text around 9:30 this morning informing her that their plan to go to the beach today would have to be postponed due to rain which had arrived much earlier than the meteorologists predicted.

_That's fine. I wouldn't be very good company today anyway._ She sent the reply and tossed her phone on the bed. Then, she pressed her face into Arthur's pillow, breathed in his scent, and started crying again.

_ Me, neither. __ I'm hungover__._ He replies. Then, a moment later. _What happened?_

_ I'm not ready to talk about it yet._

_ I'll wait._ Another pause. _Don't over-thin__k__._

Fifteen minutes later, noise downstairs jolts her back to reality. She quietly reaches for her phone, ears straining to hear, presses the nine button three times, and waits, her finger hovering over the_ Send_ button.

Tito, a useless guard dog, lifts his head with his ears perked up, but does nothing beyond whining a little.

Then, she hears a familiar ringtone, exhales, and clears the screen. Her relief is short-lived as the realization of seeing Arthur,_ no__w_, descends over her like a shroud. _ I'm not ready to see him yet! How can I face him so soon after what I've done_?

"Yes, Father," Arthur's voice is distant, but it reaches her ears. Guinevere's heart starts thumping, and she briefly considers hiding. "No, I had to stop home a moment. I'll be there on time, don't worry. _No._ I'll see you at the courthouse." He abruptly stops in the doorway of their bedroom as though momentarily paralyzed, his finger still hovering over the screen of his mobile from just having hit the _End_ button.

She is equally still, not even breathing as she stares back at him, the sadness and guilt washing over her anew. Finally, she blinks once and starts breathing again.

_He looks like he slept as poorly as I did_. His eyes are slightly droopy and there are faint shadows under them. He looks a bit paler than usual. Even his hair seems dull and tired.

"Oh... Guinevere... I... I didn't know you'd be... I... I thought you were spending the day with Gwaine." He finally speaks, taking in the view before him. Her eyes are still puffy and slightly red. Nearly half of her hair has escaped from its braid, and there are crumpled tissues scattered over the coverlet. It doesn't escape his attention that she is sitting on his side of the bed either. _Does this mean she... misses me?_ A tiny shred of hope glimmers in his heart, but he keeps it cautiously guarded for now.

"Um... w-we _were_ going to go to the beach, but..." she gestures to the rain-spattered window. "Plus, he's hungover," she dumbly adds. Her voice is hoarse.

"Oh. I, um… I just need different shoes. Can't wear brown shoes with a charcoal suit," he mutters, bending to absently pat the dog's head before disappearing into the closet.

Guinevere hurriedly collects the tissues and tosses them into the bin. _S__hould I say something? If so, wha__t?_

Arthur emerges with the black shoes on and a bag dangling from his hand, presumably containing the brown ones he'd been wearing. _What else does he have in that bag? For how many days did he pack? How long does he expect to be gone? _Guinevere feels a sharp panic building up inside that is quickly replaced with realization and sadness. _W__ell, what else would I expect him to do? How can he know how long he will be gone? How can _I_ know?_ Guinevere shakes her head, trying to think through her confusion. _Say something. Anything._

"Um... you're in court today?" she tentatively asks.

"Yes," he nods. "It's... it's an easy case. Father is doing most of the work," he adds.

She nods, not knowing why. "That's good. I mean... you, um, look... tired, and I don't want it to affect..."

He smiles very slightly at her concern. "I'll manage. Thanks," he replies, touched by her worry.

She attempts to smile, but her face threatens to crumble, and she looks away, pointing her eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to stop the threatening tears.

Arthur clears his throat. "I'll… I'll see you around… I guess… I hope," he says, looking truly miserable. He pauses another moment, his eyes soft and sad as he regards her. He starts to turn towards the door.

"Arthur…" she calls, her mouth moving before her brain can stop it. She winces at how weak and tremulous her voice sounds.

He turns back, looking hopeful. "Yes?"

"I…" she starts, but her words fail. _I still don__'__t know what to say._

_ I don__'__t want him to leave._

"Your tie doesn't match," she blurts, chickening out. _It__'s true__, but that's not what I should be telling him._

"It doesn't?" he looks down, drops his bag, and immediately starts untying the tie.

"No. Um... wear the dark silver one," she suggests, her fingers clutching the duvet.

His lips curve into the barest smile and he disappears into the closet again. He returns, tying the tie she suggested. "Thank you," he says. He stands, rooted in place, wanting nothing more than to climb into the bed with her, wrap her in his embrace, and pull the covers over both their heads, shutting out the rest of the world. He wants to dry the tears he can see threatening to fall. He wants to hold her and kiss her and whisper sweet words into her ears until she feels safe, confident, and happy again.

Instead, he smiles sadly, and says, "Thank you, Guinevere."

"You're welcome, Arthur," she softly answers. "Um, you're not going to be late, are you?" she asks.

"Maybe," he answers, unconcerned.

_You are my wife and my priority, even over my job._ His words drift into her memory, and she is momentarily struck by how much they mean to her. How much _he_ means…

"I... I should probably go," he finally says, interrupting her reverie. "Um, try to get some rest."

"You, too. I mean... try not to work too hard," she answers, feeling very awkward.

He gives her that sad smile again, nods, and leaves.

_Come back._

_ Forgive me._

_ I... I cannot be without you. I just don't know why._

Guinevere flinches when the door closes downstairs and starts crying again. She reaches for another tissue as she flops back onto the bed, frustrated with her continued inability to reach out to him.

_What is _wrong_ with me?_

Xxx

Shortly after Arthur left, Gwen calls Gwaine and tells him what happened. He listens like a loyal friend, being uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. When she finished, he simply says, "Hmm."

"What 'hmm'?" she asks.

"For some reason this reminds me of Sefa," Gwaine says.

"Sefa?"

"Well, you kind of did the same thing. I mean, you weren't _married_ to her, and I know you don't want to hear this right now, but... you kind of pushed her away after your dad died," Gwaine says.

"I didn't push her away," Gwen argues. "We just sort of... drifted apart."

"She was your best friend, Gwen. Like a sister to you. Those kinds of friendships don't _drift._ When Uncle Tom died, you withdrew from everyone, and when she tried to reach out to you, you withdrew further. You stopped taking her calls, stopped doing things with her. Eventually, _she_ stopped trying."

Gwen is silent for a moment. "What are you saying? That I'm pushing Arthur away?" she timidly asks.

"Not yet," he answers. "Look, I really like Arthur, and he's a good match for you. He really is. All I'm saying is don't over-think things. It gets you into trouble. You're a very smart person, but sometimes your head gets in the way, you know?"

She sighs, weary. "Yeah," she finally admits.

"Get some rest. I know you didn't sleep last night. Think about what you want, but don't use your brain, okay?"

"I'll try," she says, understanding her friend's unusual advice.

"You'd better do more than try," he says, his voice affectionate. "Love you, Gwennie. You know where to find me if you need me."

"Thanks. Love you, too," she answers. She disconnects the call and tosses her phone on the bed. Then, she grabs a tissue, scoots back down into the bed, and pulls the covers over her head, letting the tears fall again.

She finally rises shortly past noon. After an excessively long shower involving a lot of standing under the spray and staring at the wall, she decides she should do something to keep her mind occupied. The cupcakes she agreed to make for Merlin's graduation party seem just the thing.

_Merlin's party. It's tomorrow._

_ I could just drop off the cupcakes_ _and leave. No, I couldn't do that._

_ It is tempting __t__hough. Merlin would understand._

_ Even so. Merlin is my friend, too, and I should be there._

_ And, it__'__s not that I want to _avoid_ Arthur. It was painful seeing hi__m__, but I felt better when he was here._ _ I just wish I could go back and do things differently._

_ It's seeing him in public, with people we know_, _that makes it_ _awkward._

While Guinevere waits for the cupcakes to cool, she lines up the little fondant decorations she made earlier in the week, fine-tuning them. She adjusts stethoscopes, makes sure the bandages look like bandages instead of amputated fingers, and straightens thermometers and syringes.

As she tinkers, she realizes she ended the call to Gwaine without remembering to confirm he is going to be at Merlin's party. She picks up her mobile.

_You're still going to the party tomorrow, right?_

A minute later, he replies.

_Yep. I'll even take a break from my normal party activities to stay by your side._

_Thank you._

She knows Gwaine isn't the type to tell her what to do. That's not what she needs anyway. Gwaine knows she needs his listening ear and his support.

Gwen is pondering the little bit of insight Gwaine gave her while she mixes the icing. _ Do I really push people away when I need them the most? Am I afraid of getting too attached to Arthur because if something happens to him I'm just going to wind up alone?_

_ That's... really sad. Is this_ _really how I want to live my life?_

Her reverie is interrupted by Tito's bark at the sound of the postman's truck outside. She checks the temperature of the cupcakes, then heads out to bring in the mail. There is a break in the rain, so she snaps her fingers for the dog to come out with her.

"Afternoon, Guinevere," Olaf calls, waving to Gwen from beside his mailbox as she reaches theirs.

"Afternoon," she calls back, waving. She sees Vivian standing with her father, looking as perfect as always, but scowling. "Hello, Vivian," she adds, being polite.

Vivian pouts, not answering.

"Vivian, do not be rude," Olaf says. His voice is light, but his jaw is clenched. "Say hello to Mrs. Pendragon."

Gwen feels a sharp pang in the pit of her stomach and bites back a gasp.

"Hello," Vivian says, flashing Gwen the fakest smile she has ever seen while looking her up and down.

She pushes past her added distress and returns Vivian's false smile, nods at Olaf, and heads inside with Tito following close behind. Gwen doesn't even care that Vivian gave her a very judgmental once-over because there are two words loudly repeating in her head.

_Mrs. Pendragon._

She flips through the post to distract herself, looking to see if there is anything appearing to need immediate attention.

Her brow furrows as her eyes fall on an envelope with her name on it. She drops the other envelopes on the counter and opens it.

It's the credit card Arthur ordered for her. The name GUINEVERE LEODEGRANCE is embossed across its platinum surface.

She blinks confused tears from her eyes, surprised at the disappointment she feels at not seeing "Guinevere Pendragon" there.

_ It makes perfect sense that my maiden name is on __the card__. He was waiting for me to make the decisio__n of whether or not to change it_.

_ My last name is not, officially__, __Pendragon._

_ Then, why was I kind of hoping the card would have Arthu__r__'s_ _name?_

_ Because _you_ want to have Arthu__r__'s_ _name, that__'__s why._

Guinevere tucks the card back into the envelope, and sets it on the counter.

After a moment, she shoves it underneath the rest of the mail.

_Mrs. Pendragon._

The name continues to float through Gwen's brain.

It troubles her more than she was expecting. It haunts her as she reaches, with trembling hands, for the bowl of icing.

_He has let me run the show for all these weeks, never pushing me, letting me be in control. He's been nothing but wonderful, and I selfishly shit on him._

_ I miss him._

_ I hope he's doing okay. I hate that he had court today after I..._

Her hand slips and she gets icing all over it. When she goes to wash her hand, her fingers run over her wedding band, and a jolt runs through her as sweet, wonderful memories of her and Arthur's first three weeks come flooding in unbidden. Tears start rolling down her cheeks.

She doesn't remember finishing the cupcakes.

xXx

_The rest of the afternoon is foggy. I vaguely recall eating something __–__ toast? __–__ at some point. I tried going out to the garden to think, but couldn't stay there. I saw the boulders I had him move where I wanted, and remembered last weekend. How much I enjoyed watching him work. _

_ Tried the sitting room, but there is so much of him in there I could hardly bear it._

_ The kitchen was tolerable, but once I completed my work, I had nothing to distract m__e__, and thoughts about Arthur__'__s well-being today crept in. What will he eat for lunch? _Will_ he eat lunch? And if so, will it be something healthy to see him through his day?_

_ I had to get out of the kitchen._

_ I thought the empty parlor would do, but all I could think about were the plans we have for it._

_ The dining room with the table we__ had __only just purchased together three days ago was not an option at all. Three days ago was Tuesday, when I... we..._

_ How_ _is he getting through this day? Is he, too, thinking about when we__…__?_

_ I eventually climbed the stairs and decided to lie down on my old bed in the guest bedroom, hoping to find some solace there, on something of mine, in a room filled with things that belong solely to me._

_ It didn't work. The bed felt wrong. It was too cold, too empty, too... foreign. It isn't my bed anymore._

_ It isn't my bed anymore because _our_ bed is my bed now._

_ So, I trudged back to our bedroom, my confused dog trailing after me. It was getting dark out, so I gave up, changing into pajamas. I briefly contemplated wearing one of Arthur's shirts, wanting to feel him surrounding me agai__n__, but decided that would be a bad idea. It would be a poor substitute for the real thing. And, too painful for my heart to bear right now._

_ I picked up Tito and let him lie on the bed with me, which I never do. He's not allowed on the bed. But, he snuggled up next to me and kept me company in my misery, which was something._

_"__Something__"__ turned out to be a reminder of the three weeks I spent sleeping in Arthur's arms, warm and safe in his embrace. Of the conversations we__ have __had here, getting to know one another. Of his physical and emotional warmth._

_ His twinkling blue-gray eyes as he looked at me._

_ His amazing smile, both wonderfully sweet and unbelievably sexy at once._

_ His laugh._

_ His voice._

_ The way he says my name._

_ Oh, God._

_ I miss him._

_ I miss him so much._

_He still looked so devastated this morning. I wanted to talk more, I really did, but the words wouldn't come. Plus, I knew he had to go._

_ He would have stayed though, I know it._

_ He would have called Uther and told him he couldn't be there._

_ For me._

_ Because... he loves me._

_ Why didn't I tell Elyan straight away? Surely, it wouldn't have gone as badly as I was building it up in my head. He wouldn't have disowned me or anything like that._

_ I sometimes forget that while he's all the family I have, _I_ am all _he_ has as well._

_ Why was I freaking out about this?_

_ What the hell is wrong with me?_

_ I can__'__t lose Elyan, but__…__ I can__'__t lose_ _Arthur, either._

_ Why do I think I can _only_ have one or the other?_


	11. Chapter 11

_31 May_

_ I can do this. I can do this. I am an adult. I'm a grown woman who can handle going to a party that my possibly-estranged husband is attending._

_ Is that what we are? Estranged?_

_ I hope not._

_ The party is at noon, at Merlin's mother's house. I got up at 9._

_ I had been awake since 7:30._

_ Gwaine has been checking in on me periodically. I'm picking him up at 11:45 for the party. He said I could drive because that puts me in control if I want to – or need to – leave._

_ Then, he added he would also be able to drink without worry. I think he was just trying to make me smile._

_ It worked a little._

_ I think Tito is concerned about me. He knows something is up. Every time he hears something, he expectantly looks toward the door. I think he misses Arthur._

_ So do I._

_ More than I thought I would. More than I probably should._

_ Especially considering how much I hurt him._

_ That's what is so hard. Knowing my stupidity and irrational fear hurt him. Knowing that I alone could have prevented this whole mess._

_ Of what am I so bloody afraid? _

_What has me so paralyzed that I am consequently throwing away my chance at happiness?_

_My chance with Arthur._

_ I'm an idiot._

_ I don't know what I'm going to do when I see him at the party. I don't even know how many people there will know about our marriage._

_ Those who do are going to realize something is wrong._

_ But, I can't let that get to me._

_ Wait._

_ Why does what other people think of my life matter_?

_ They are not important._

Arthur_ is important._

xXx

"You ready, Princess?" Gwaine softly asks. They are sitting in her car, parked at the curb outside Merlin's mother's house. It's been a full minute since Gwen killed the engine, but she hasn't moved.

"No," she answers, but she opens her car door and gets out, going around to the back to get the cupcakes. She hands one box to Gwaine and takes the other herself, a gift bag hanging from her wrist.

"Still not too late to drop-and-dash," he says.

"That would be childish and cowardly, and I want to be here for Merlin. He's become my friend as well," she says. Gwaine manages to close the back of her SUV without dropping his box of cakes, and they walk to the house.

"You're a braver man than I," he says, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. He rings the bell, and Merlin immediately opens the door.

"Hi Merlin, congratulations," she says, smiling as brightly as she can.

"Doctor Emrys," Gwaine greets him, his voice taking on a mockingly posh tone.

"Hey, Gwen, Gwaine. Thanks," he answers, opening the door so they can come in. "Those look brilliant, Gwen, I can't thank you enough."

"It was no trouble at all," she says.

"How much do I owe you?" he asks, leading them to the kitchen where the cupcakes will wait until after lunch. The actual party is in the back garden.

"Nothing. They are my gift to you," she says.

"Really? What's that then?" he asks, pointing to the gift bag.

"Um, this is from... well..." she pauses, collecting herself. _I had been hoping to just stick this on the gift table and have done._

"He's not here right now. He stayed back at my flat," Merlin says, gently taking the bag from her hand, understanding the gift is from both her and Arthur, likely purchased before Thursday.

"Oh," she says. "Okay."

"He says he won't come if you don't want..."

"No! You're his best friend, it would be wrong if he wasn't here! If anything, I should be the one to go," she argues. "Does... does _he_ not want _me_ here?" she softly asks.

"He didn't seem to be upset by the prospect of your being here," Merlin says. "He really misses you."

"I miss him, too," she admits.

Merlin's mother comes into the kitchen from outside and immediately starts cooing and gushing over the cupcakes.

"Mum..._ Mum,_" Merlin calls, and she looks up.

"Oh, hello!" she says brightly, coming over.

_Either she doesn't know about this mess or she's a brilliant actress._ "Hello," Gwen says.

"You must be Gwen," she says, her hand reaching out.

"Yes," Merlin interjects. "Mum, this is Gwen and her friend Gwaine... well, he's my friend, too, now, but I met him through Gwen."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Emrys," Gwen says, shaking the older woman's hand.

"Oh, please, call me Hunith, dear," she says. Gwen catches just a flash of sympathy and concern in her gentle blue eyes. Hunith turns to Gwaine. "And, Gwaine, pleased to meet you. My Merlin has mentioned you a few times, so I'm happy you came."

She offers Gwaine her hand. He takes it and lifts it to his lips, kissing it. "I hope your Merlin has said only good things about me," he smoothly says, smiling devilishly at her.

Her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth opens slightly, rendered speechless.

"Gwaine, stop chatting up my mum," Merlin says, lightly shoving his shoulder.

"You are a troublemaker," Hunith declares, chuckling. She extracts her hand from Gwaine's clutches and pats his cheek. "But, you're a handsome troublemaker."

"Mum!" Merlin exclaims.

Gwen laughs for the first time in over a day. _It feels good to laugh._ "Do you need any help, Hunith?" she asks, looking towards the kitchen.

"Wouldn't say no," Hunith answers. "My Merlin is brilliant, but I daresay he's nothing but trouble in the kitchen."

"Come on, Gwaine, you can help me outside," Merlin says. "People should be arriving pretty soon."

xXx

The party is not terribly large, but it is well-attended. Guinevere and Gwaine stay to the fringes, mainly observing the other attendees. Merlin introduces Freya, who is lovely. She sits and talks with them for a while, fascinated by Gwaine's job. She is just asking him if he would be interested in coming to talk to some of her classes when Arthur arrives.

Their conversation fades into white noise as Guinevere watches her husband walk in. Her breath leaves her when she sees how withdrawn he appears. His customary confident, I-have-my-own-theme-music stride is diminished, like he is trying not to attract attention to himself. Her heart aches when she sees him barely smile at Hunith, as if it takes a great effort to do so.

He looks rumpled. _Smaller,_ somehow_._ The sparkling light is missing from his eyes.

Then, he spots her. He smiles the saddest smile she's ever seen and raises his hand in a slight wave.

She returns the smile and wave, knowing they are the same as his. Then, she looks down before he sees the tears welling in her eyes.

"Excuse me," she softly tells Gwaine, and heads inside, searching for the loo and some privacy.

"First door on the left," Hunith quietly says as Gwen passes. Gwen nods in response.

Guinevere knows she can't hide in the toilet forever. She also knows if she allows herself to completely fall apart, it will be written all over her face when she returns to the party.

_I miss him. He misses me._

_ This is so stupid__._

_ How do I fix this?_

There's a knock on the door.

"One moment," she calls. She flushes, washes her hands, and splashes some cold water on her face.

When she opens the door, Morgana is standing there. "Hey, Gwen," she says, smiling. Her smile quickly falls. "You all right? I don't mean to be nosy, but you and Arthur both look completely miserable."

"We're... having a bit of a rough patch right now, that's all," she says, not surprised her sister-in-law doesn't know anything about it.

"Oh. Well, it happens. Wouldn't be a relationship without a few bumps in the road," she says, putting her hand on Gwen's shoulder. "I don't need to know the details, but I hope you get it sorted. I like you. And, you're good for my brother."

_Am I?_ "I like you, too," Gwen replies. She feebly attempts a smile, her sister-in-law's compliment causing her to feel more unsettled.

Morgana gives Gwen's shoulder a squeeze, says, "Okay, have to pee. We'll talk more later," and heads into the bathroom.

"Um, okay," Gwen says. She takes a deep breath and walks back through the house.

Arthur is in the kitchen, inspecting the cupcakes. Guinevere stops dead in her tracks.

He looks up. "Um, hi."

"Hi," she answers.

"These are cute," he says, indicating the contents of the flat boxes on the counter.

"Thank you," she says. "Um..."

"I miss you," he says, blinking a few times.

_Is he blinking back tears?_ "I... I miss you, too, Arthur," she answers.

Merlin comes in through the patio doors, does an immediate about-face, and heads back outside.

Arthur glances in his direction. "I'm glad you came."

"I wanted to. Merlin's become my friend as well."

He nods. His body slightly sways, as though he was about to move toward her but stopped himself. _ I miss you so much, Guinevere. Come back to me_.

Guinevere bites her lower lip, not knowing what to say. "Are you... did you sleep last night?"_ Come home. I want you to come home, but I don't know how to ask._

He shakes his head. "Noticeable, huh?" _She knows me so well already._

"I don't look much better," she says.

"You look beautiful, Guinevere," he answers, his voice thick.

_I so don't, but it's unbelievably sweet that he thinks I do._ "Thank you," she whispers.

"Oh! Um... sorry," Morgana walks through the kitchen as unobtrusively as possible, attempting to be invisible.

Mordred has other ideas, bursting through the door. "Mummy! I have juice?"

"Yes, Monkey, you can have some juice. Come on, let's go out—"

"Auntie Wen!" Mordred wriggles out of his mother's grasp and toddles to Guinevere.

"Hi, Mordred," she says, smiling down at him. To her surprise, he holds his hands up, so she crouches down and hugs him. "I like your shirt. What is this on it?" she asks, poking his belly with her finger.

"Lion," he says.

"Can you tell Auntie what a lion says?" Morgana asks.

Guinevere sees the other woman look in Arthur's direction, and she looks up just in time to see Arthur turn and head outside, his head bowed. He reaches up to his face, but she can't tell if he is scratching his nose or wiping his eye.

"RAAWWRRR!" Mordred obediently roars.

Gwen smiles. "Very good, Mordred. Hey, do you like gorillas?"

He nods, then pounds his chest like a male silverback.

"You need to go talk to my friend Gwaine. He works at the zoo," she says, glancing up at Morgana. "He has gorillas and orangutans and chimps."

"Really?" Morgana asks.

"Yeah," Gwen says, standing. "He's a primatologist."

"Oh, is he that gorgeous bloke talking to Freya?"

"Still? Yes, that's him. Mordred, would you like to come meet my friend?"

Mordred nods, takes Gwen's hand, and they start walking outside.

"He has a bit of a crush," Morgana says, looking down at her son.

"Apparently," she says, smiling a little. "But, he's little. He'll get over it. Oh, Gwaine's a flirt, so be prepared."

"Noted," Morgana says. "Um, sorry about interrupting..."

"It's all right," Gwen says. She introduces Gwaine to Morgana and Mordred, and excuses herself to get a bottle of water.

She decides to take a look around the garden, walking slowly with her water, trying to put her thoughts in order while she inspects Hunith's flowers.

_ Is what Gwaine said true? Am I pushing Arthur away because I'm afraid of losing him?_

_ Wow, it sounds really stupid when said that way._

_ "Really stupid" is about how I feel._

She turns at the end of the garden and heads back toward the party.

_ How else do I feel? About him?_

_ I've never met anyone like him. He's smart, funny, attractive... more than attractive._

_ He makes me feel… special._

_ He makes me _happy_. Since h__e's__ left, I've felt this... hole..._

_ Wait, who is that?_

Guinevere sits in an empty chair, watching with a combination of horror and fascination as a young woman talks to Arthur.

She's got a sweet, cherubic face and dark blonde, wavy hair. She's pretty, in a girlish way. And, she is shamelessly flirting with Arthur.

She touches his arm, tosses her hair, bats her eyelashes, and pouts her Cupid's bow lips.

"Merlin's cousin Sophia," Freya's voice quietly sounds in Gwen's ear as she sits beside her. "She's... okay."

"She's flirting with my husband," Gwen says. It comes out sharper than she intended.

"Are you going do something about it?" Freya mildly asks, as if it is no big deal.

"I..." _Is it a big deal? Could I just go __over__ there and make it clear __Arthur__ is unavailable? I wonde__r__... what is __he__ going to do?_

"I know things aren't exactly good right now," Freya gently says, her eyes sympathetic.

Sophia laughs loudly. It sounds forced. She leans towards Arthur as she does so.

Then, Gwen sees it: Arthur could not be less interested. He's barely paying attention to her.

Her proximity seems to finally penetrate Arthur's consciousness, and he takes a step away from her. Then, he mutters something, pulls his left hand out of his pocket so Sophia can see his wedding ring, and wanders away towards the hors d'oeuvres, where he makes polite conversation with a huge man with very short hair. Leon steps up a moment later and joins them, a plate held in his long fingers.

"That's Percival Thomas. He's a friend of Merlin and Arthur's from university," Freya explains. "He teaches phys. ed. at the same school as me actually. Nice guy."

"Mmm," Gwen nods, only mildly interested. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company," she apologizes.

"No, it's fine," Freya says. She pauses a second, pondering her next words. "If you don't mind my saying, I hope you stay together. Now that we've met, I can see why he married you."

"Um, thanks," Gwen answers, smiling a little and blinking rapidly, willing the tears back. _What do people see that I don't? Does it matter? Arthur sees something in me... and that _does_ matter. Very much._

"I'll see you later," Freya says, standing. She gives Gwen's shoulder a gentle squeeze and heads over to join Merlin.

Guinevere stares into the middle distance, thinking about how she felt seeing Sophia trying to chat up Arthur.

_I hated it._

_ She had her_ hand_ on him_.

_ He wasn't even paying attention to her, but that's not the point._

_ He's _my_ husband._

She sits up straight in her chair, realization dawning.

_ The hole… the emptiness I've been feeling…_

_ He _does_ hold the missing piece of my soul._

She stands and walks over to Gwaine. "I'd like to go home," she says.

"But, I didn't get a cupcake..."

"I'll make you a whole cake. I need to find my brother." Her mobile is already in her hands, typing a text to Elyan.

Gwaine immediately understands. "Oh! Okay. Um, let's go then."

_Call me as soon as you can. It's important._ She sends the text, figuring if she sends it now, she might catch him before his performance tonight.

xXx

Elyan calls ten minutes after Gwen is home.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He immediately starts asking questions, his voice filled with worry.

"Oh, sorry, nothing like that. I haven't been in an accident or anything, but..."

"What's the matter? You sound terrible."

"Thanks," she sighs. "But, I know. I feel terrible."

"Are you ill?"

"Not exactly. Elyan—" she breaks off, her voice starting to tremble.

"Wait. Did Arthur dump you or something? He seemed like the perfect guy for you, so—"

"_Elyan_," she interjects. "Arthur didn't dump me. But... he's not my boyfriend."

"Okay, now I'm really confused," he says.

"I know, sorry. So was I..." _Say it._ "Arthur's not my boyfriend because he's... he's my husband. We're married."

Elyan is quiet for a long moment. "When did you get married?" he softly asks.

"Almost a month ago," she answers just as softly.

"Um, didn't you just _meet_ him a month ago?"

"Yeah, that's the thing, El. We... kind of got married the day we met."

"What?" His voice is still quiet.

"We got married the—"

"Yes, I _heard_ you, just..."

Guinevere takes a deep breath and tells him everything. The whole story. "So... yeah. We did a crazy impulsive thing, and you probably think I've lost my mind. Some days, I wonder if I have. I was just... afraid to tell you."

"Why?" he asks.

"I was afraid you'd be mad," she quietly answers.

Elyan says nothing for what feels like the longest five seconds of Guinevere's life. "What kind of a person do you think I am, Gwen? I mean, yeah, frankly, I'm shocked you got married like that, but to think I would be mad at you for it? That hurts. You're my baby sister, but you're also a grown woman and are fully capable of making your own decisions. Even if I don't agree with some of those decisions, it doesn't mean I don't love you or somehow think less of you. I don't_ have_ to agree with your decisions."

Gwen feels small. "Wow, Elyan, I... I didn't know you felt like this..."

"I'm kind of mad that you _didn't_ tell me, actually, but I'm not mad at you for living your life," he says.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I know I should have told you. I... I didn't because I wasn't able to figure out _exactly_ how you would react. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have because... well, I don't think we really know each other anymore."

"I know," he sadly agrees.

"I'm so sorry I misjudged you," she apologizes.

"Thanks. I'm sorry we've grown apart," he replies.

"Me, too," she agrees. "You never call me."

"Gwen, a phone works both ways you know," he counters.

Silence. "Okay, we're both guilty," Gwen sighs.

"Gwennie, I _want_ to call you more. I miss you. I like talking to you, hearing about what you're doing. But... our schedules are _completely _opposite. I'm awake when you're asleep..."

"And, _I'm_ awake when _you're_ asleep," Gwen finishes, chuckling. "Honestly, I'm amazed I caught you now."

"You had fortuitous timing," he says. "It's only just gone three, and the show is at eight."

"And, it'll be nearly eleven by the time you're done," Gwen groans. "How do you do it?"

"How do _you_ get up at three in the morning to go to the bakery? You just do it because it's your job. I also tend to sleep until almost noon," he answers.

Gwen laughs. "See? I'm just leaving work at noon. And then, I take a nap."

"Sometimes, I'm just getting home at three. I've thought about calling you then, but..."

"You could totally call me then," Gwen laughs. "Even if it's to just say hello. I can't guarantee I'll be fully awake, but I think I could manage a 'hello'." She pauses a moment, turning serious again. "I miss you, too, El. It was great seeing you Thursday."

"Yeah. Arthur's a top bloke, by the way," he says. "I like him."

"Thanks," she answers, pinching her eyes shut as guilt and shame start to overtake her. "Elyan..." she starts, her voice wavering.

"It's all right, Gwen," he says.

"No, I need to say it. I'm sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you right away. I should have introduced him as my husband on Thursday at the very least, and... and now I may have buggered that up as well..." she breaks off, crying now.

"What? What happened?" Elyan asks, his own hurt being surpassed by concern.

"You're not the only person I hurt by not telling you," Gwen manages. "Arthur and I discussed it. It was... so painful. I knew I was wrong, and... and I was going to leave, to try to figure out what I wanted... but, he left instead..."

"_Left_?" he asks, surprised. "What do you mean, Gwen?"

"He didn't, like, _leave_ me. He... he's giving me space so I can think. I'm actually at his house and _he_ went to stay with a friend. God, I'm such a tosser..."

"Wait. Are you saying it's over?"

"No. At least, I hope not. I like being married to him. I don't regret my choice. I... I was just so hung up on what everyone _else_ was going to think, to say... so worried about how I was going to explain the timing of it to other people, that I wasn't paying enough attention to how I was feeling."

"Sounds like you had some sort of epiphany," he says. "What happened?"

She tells him about the past couple of days, culminating in the party. "And, the last straw was seeing some slag trying to chat him up,"

"Ouch," he says. She can picture his face wincing as he says it.

"Yeah," she agrees. "But, then I realized… it shouldn't matter what other people think. It _doesn't_ matter what other people think about my marrying Arthur the day I met him. Even you, El, I'm sorry to say, but it's true. I wouldn't divorce Arthur just because you didn't like the idea." She swallows, then continues, her voice softer. "He… he means too much to me."

"Well, yeah, that's kind of what I meant when I said 'I don't _have_ to agree with your decisions', Gwennie," he replies.

She sighs. "I know. But, you've always been more secure with yourself than I have. You remember how I always would feel so awful if I had disappointed anyone: Mum, Dad, you, Mrs. Hayward from next door… the stomachaches I endured…'

"You would worry about their disapproval for days and they would be over whatever the matter was within minutes," Elyan says, remembering.

"I guess old habits die hard." _Old habits are ruining my life._ "I got… so hung up on what others might think that I started to lose sight of what _I_ thought – what truly matters," she adds, shaking her head in realization. "Others. Listen to me. I don't have a lot of people to tell. Basically, the only people whose opinions matter to me are you and Gwaine."

After a pause, he asks, "So… Gwaine knows?"

"Um, yes," she answers, her voice small. "Sorry."

Elyan sighs, but simply says, "Well, he's been more available to you than I have." He pauses. "Remind me to thank him for stepping up."

"You would have done the same had you been here, El," she says. "I'm lucky to have _both_ of you. Now, I just have to not lose Arthur…"

"Well, it sounds like he still wants to be married to you," he offers.

"He said he wasn't giving up on me. On us," Gwen says, sniffling. "I just hope I haven't mucked it up."

"I doubt it. Have you talked to him since the party?"

"No, I've only talked to you. And Gwaine."

"He's smarter than he lets on, our Gwaine. He's right, too. About Sefa. I was too absorbed in my own problems to see it at the time, but looking back… yeah."

Gwen sighs heavily. "I have to stop pushing people away."

"Yes, you do," Elyan softly agrees.

"I guess... after Mum and Dad died... I started thinking it would hurt less when people leave me if I keep my distance. But, keeping my distance brings hurts of its own," she says.

"That sounds accurate," he says. "Tremendously flawed, but accurate."

"For a smart person, I'm kind of dumb sometimes," she says. "God, I hate feeling like this."

"We all deal with these things differently. You remember how I almost gave up the bass after Dad died?"

"Yeah," Gwen answers sadly. When their mother died, Elyan stopped talking for a while. He was nine, and Gwen was seven. Nine years later, Elyan almost lost his chance at a music scholarship because he couldn't even look at his bass, leaning in the corner of his room. He moved it into the spare room, saying it looked too much like their dad who was a large, burly man. He made sure Gwen had everything she required, but neglected his own needs. Finally, Gwen and Gwaine had to remind him of everything their parents sacrificed to purchase the instrument for him and get him lessons to develop his gift, and if he threw it all away he would be dishonoring their memory.

"You and Gwaine pulled me back to reality then. It's time to return the favor," he says.

"Thanks," she says, smiling a little.

"Wish I'd known you were hurting earlier though," he comments.

"I'm good at hiding it," she admits. "Well, used to be."

"Stop hiding, Gwen. That's a big part of your problem. You've been hiding, and Arthur found you. Thing is, now that you've been uncovered, you don't know what to do with yourself," he says.

"Whoa. When did you get smart?" she asks.

"You're deflecting."

Guinevere bites her lip. _Arthur said the same thing._

"And, I've always been smart," he answers.

"I know," she says, acknowledging both statements. "So, what _do_ I do with myself?"

Elyan says nothing for a moment. "Get yourself sorted, Sis. Does he make you happy?" he asks.

"Yes, he does. I've been miserable without him, and it's only been two days. I feel like there's a hole in my chest," she answers. "So, that plus my shame over not telling you equals me feeling pretty damn wretched right about now."

"Well, stop feeling bad about me. I forgive you, Gwen. I was hurt, but I'm over it now, and forgive you because that's what you do when you love someone, right?"

Gwen starts crying again. "Right," she answers, her voice wobbly.

"Stop it," Elyan says, his voice not sounding too stable either. He clears his throat. "Now. He makes you happy. You like being with him. I don't see where the problem is."

"Well, when you say it like _that_..." she says, sighing heavily. "I need to talk to Arthur, don't I?"

"Sounds like it to me," he says. "Call him. He'll forgive you, too. Because he loves you. That much was obvious. Even Helios was like, 'Damn...' and he is not one to pay attention to those kinds of things."

"Thanks, El," she says.

"Gwen?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love him?"

She thinks a moment. "Yes, I do."

"Have you _told_ him?"

"Well, he probably already knows..."

"Gwen..."

"No." Before Elyan can speak, she says, "I know, I know. Calling him in 30 seconds, all right?"

"Good. Be honest with him. He deserves that much."

"I will. Thanks, Elyan. It was really good talking to you like this. You've helped me a lot actually. Love you."

"Any time. Love you, too, Gwen."

Guinevere disconnects the call and stares at her phone for a moment. Then, she brings up her contacts list and dials Arthur's number.

_I cannot spend another night without him_.


	12. Chapter 12

31 May continued

Guinevere listens to the ringing of Arthur's phone, her heart pounding as she waits for her husband to pick up. With each ring, her anxiety grows.

"Guinevere?" Arthur's voice finally answers.

She can faintly hear the sounds of the party in the background. _Oh, he's probably still there. I completely forgot. _"Hello, Arthur," she replies, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. "Um, when you leave the party... will you come home?"

"I'll be there in 15 minutes," he says. She can tell he's walking as he speaks.

"Oh... you don't have to leave early just for me," she says. "I mean, I didn't intend for you to take off immediately."

"Guinevere," Arthur says, "I told you I would be waiting for you when you were ready. You're ready, so I'm not wasting any time."

"All right," she quietly responds. _I'm his priority. I need to remember that so I can make sure he is always mine._ "Thank you."

"I'm just going to say goodbye to Merlin and Hunith, and I'll be on my way." Then, he adds, "Should I, um... stop at Merlin's and get my things?"

Guinevere doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

Arthur audibly exhales. "Fifteen minutes," he says.

"Okay."

She hears the door open fourteen minutes later. Tito takes off running, his little tail wagging furiously, as he goes to greet Arthur.

"Hi, boy. Yes, I missed you, too," she hears his voice, then his footsteps, accompanied by Tito's happy scampering feet as he bounds around Arthur's ankles.

She waits for him at the bottom of the stairs. "Hi," she says, at a loss for words. In truth, she wants to run into his arms, hold on and never let go.

"Hi," he answers, his fingers tightening on his bag to keep them from pulling her into his embrace so he can tuck his face into her neck, inhale her scent, and feel the soft-coarse texture of her hair on his cheek.

"Um, upstairs?" she asks. "We can still... talk in the bedroom, right?"

He smiles. "It would feel strange anywhere else," he agrees.

Guinevere nods, heads up the steps, and Arthur follows.

He drops his bags unceremoniously on a chair while she sits on the sloppily-made bed, up by the pillows. He perches at the foot.

Guinevere remembers the jumbled emotions she felt the last time she and Arthur were in this room. She briefly falters, shakes her head, and looks at her husband's sad but expectant face. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," she says, jumping right in. She looks down at her hands, then back up at him. "I hurt you, and I can't forgive myself for that. I hurt you because I was stupid and afraid because... it sounds like an excuse, but because of issues I didn't even realize I had."

"Issues?" he asks, curious.

She nods. "I talked to Elyan." She takes a deep breath. "I sent him a text to call me as soon as he could, and he called ten minutes later." She reaches over for a tissue, then looks straight at Arthur. "I told him."

She tells him everything about the last two days: Gwaine, Olaf, the credit card, Sophia, and Elyan. How she couldn't stop thinking about him. Wondering if he was okay. Eating. Sleeping. "I was miserable without you, and with all my might I wished I could turn back the hands of time and tell Elyan right away. He called me the day we met, and... I told him I had met someone," she admits.

"Well, that _w__as_ true, but not the entire truth," he says.

"I know. I... I had a few opportunities to tell him, but I was too scared."

"Scared he'd disapprove and you'd see him even less?" he asks.

"Yes." She looks to the side, at the window. "But, keeping the entire truth about our relationship from my brother was beginning to eat at me. Being open and honest with each other is so important to us, Arthur, and yet..." she turns back to face her husband again, "hiding our marriage from Elyan made me feel like I was not being truthful with _you_. I feel horrible."

"Please stop beating yourself up about this, Love. I forgive you. Forgive yourself, or we'll never get past this," he says.

"Thank you, Arthur," she whispers, tears pricking at her eyes now.

"Guinevere," he starts, his brow furrowing, "what would you have done had Elyan disapproved? What if he had washed his hands of you because of your sudden decision to marry me?"

"I didn't want to even think about that, but quickly realized there was no way around it. Now I know. I am certain. I would have stayed with you and waited for him to come around. I don't want to lose either of you, but... I choose _you_, Arthur," she says, tears rolling down her cheeks. The light fully returns to Arthur's eyes, and he looks like a weight has lifted from his shoulders. "Elyan's the only family I have left, and... I _think_ that might be the real reason why I freaked out the night I couldn't find you. My parents are dead; I rarely see my brother… the prospect of you being gone as well was just too much to take. We haven't even known one another a full month and I cannot picture my life without you in it."

He scoots closer to her, reaching for her hand. She willingly gives it. His hand is large and warm, just as she remembered it.

"After my parents died... I subconsciously started keeping people at arms' length so it would hurt less when they left me, but I almost made it worse." She pauses, sniffling. "It seems so dumb now. I freaked out because I thought you might be gone, and yet my actions regarding my brother didn't reflect that at all." She dabs her eyes. "I could have lost the two people who mean the most to me. Because I was scared. Needlessly scared."

"It's not dumb at all, Guinevere," he reassures her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "You have already suffered so many losses." He pauses, then ruefully shakes his head. "I was afraid I'd pushed you too much. You said you were overwhelmed, and..."

Her heart leaps at his caress. "Arthur, I was overwhelmed by my own emotions, not by you. That's what I couldn't figure out Thursday night. That's what I couldn't get my brain around enough to be able to tell you."

"Oh," he breathes, looking visibly relieved. "Are you still feeling overwhelmed?"

She pauses. "Yes. But, I know why now, and... it's a _good_ overwhelmed." She squeezes his hand.

Slowly, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it, closing his eyes. "To be honest, you overwhelm me, too," he says, opening his eyes. "In a good way."

Guinevere scoots a little closer to him, wipes her eyes again, then tosses the tissue on the nightstand. "Arthur, I married you because... well, it sounds silly now, but I was afraid if I said no, you'd walk away and never look back. I'd never see you again. I... there was something about you that spoke to me on a level I don't understand, and I don't know if I ever will. I've never felt something so immediate before. So all-encompassing. I'm so sorry it took me this long to... I'm... I'm still trying to understand it, but... I may never. Because it doesn't make any sense."

"I wouldn't have given up on you so easily. I'm very persistent," Arthur says, placing his other hand over hers, holding it between his.

"I know that _now,_" she says, sighing. "Then, after you were gone, it... it was so hard being alone in your home – _our_ home – with all your things, seeing mine mixed in with them. And then, even at the party, at a strange location, I still felt this... this emptiness. This _ache_." She squeezes his hand. "I saw Merlin's cousin chatting you up at the party." She peeks at him.

"Oh. You saw that?" He winces at the memory.

She nods. "I didn't like it. At all. I mean, you shut her down pretty quickly—"

"Once I realized what she was on about," he interjects. "Honestly, I wasn't even paying attention to her until she was practically on top of me."

"I know," she says. "I noticed you weren't having it at all, which was good, but... I think it might have been the straw that broke the camel's back. Just seeing some other woman _flirting_ with you... the jealousy I felt... that anyone would_ dar__e_ pursue my husband... sort of pushed everything into place... gave me the resolve I needed." She pauses again. "It was just... everywhere I turned, I saw you, and it felt... I _missed_ you. More than I thought I would. More than I deserved to, given how I behaved."

"And, how was that?" he asks, cocking his head at me.

His thumb is rubbing small circles on her palm, and it distracts her a bit. "Like an idiot," she says, laughing a little. _Why am I laughing?_ "I... I agreed to marry you, thinking I knew what it all entailed. Then... then, I guess... I don't know. I didn't think about how I might have to explain _why_ I married you so quickly to other people. I realized later my worry wasn't about explaining why I married you, but why I married you the day I met you. Not the _why_, but the _when_."

"Guinevere," he says, his voice slipping into the tone that makes her melt_._ She doesn't think he's even aware of it. "First, no one needs to know _why_ you agreed to marry me so quickly except us. It was our decision to get married straight out of the gate, and it's no one's business why. Not even your brother's. It was your decision. _Our_ decision."

She opens her mouth intending to reply "easy for you to say," but then she closes it, realizing that's _exactly_ what he had done. He told his father they were married and didn't really give any explanation. Just told him and expected Uther to accept his decision. And, while Uther isn't completely accepting of it, he certainly knows he's not going to change his son's mind.

"And, second," he continues, "I now recognize I kind of ambushed you. Perhaps it was a tad unreasonable to expect you to marry me just because I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I… I just didn't want to risk losing you."

_We had__ the same fear._

Guinevere blinks.

"'Kind of'? 'Perhaps' a 'tad'?" she asks after a moment, a smile starting to form. _Wait. He fell in love with me the moment he saw me?_

"Okay, it was me being completely selfish and wanting you all to myself _immediately_," he admits. "It's good to see your smile, Love." He reaches up and touches her cheek, caressing it softly, and she leans into his touch.

"I… I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't felt something, Arthur," she tells him. "It felt right. Being with you, even that first day on the park bench. Good."

"Like things suddenly were as they should be," he added, speaking what is practically her next thought.

She nods. "Yes. I... I now realize you're right. It doesn't matter what other people think about our marriage. It's _our_ marriage. We got married the day we met, and that's _our_ business."

"Exactly. Easy, see?" he smiles.

"In hindsight," she allows, returning his smile. "All I know is it's right and I'm happy, so... that's reason enough, right?"

"Works for me," he says, smiling.

"Still... I wish I had a way of..." her voice trails off as a thought occurs to her. "I'll be right back."

She scurries out of the bedroom and runs downstairs, returning a minute later with her laptop. She opens it and pulls up a file. "I... sometimes I'm better at writing than speaking," she explains, handing him the computer.

"What is this?" he asks.

"My journal."

"I couldn't..." he says, looking uncertain.

"Please. It's... it's mostly about you, anyway, and if... _since_ I'm your wife, I should be able to share this with you. Just... read it, Arthur. Please."

"If it's important to you, then... of course, I'll read it. Thank you for trusting me with this, Guinevere," he says, taking the laptop.

She stands there a few seconds while he starts to read, then turns to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asks, looking up.

"I... I can't watch you read it. It's just too weird. I'll go... find something for dinner," she says.

"Oh. Um, okay," he answers. _I don't want her to leave, but I understand._

Guinevere heads downstairs to the kitchen.

xXx

She is standing at the counter, her back to the kitchen door, when Arthur joins her.

"There were no entries before the day we met," he quietly says. She turns and sees him standing, the closed laptop under his arm, watching her with new, shining eyes. It's like he's seeing her for the first time all over again, but with a deeper understanding of her mind. Her soul.

"Well, that's because there was nothing in my life worth writing about before then," she replies.

Arthur starts walking towards her, and she steps forward, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen. He sets the laptop on the table. "Guinevere, I… I don't know what to say," he murmurs, staring down at her, his arms aching to hold her. He exhales and runs his hand through his hair. "Reading your thoughts and feelings – seeing them laid out before me – has only confirmed what I instantly knew the moment I saw you. You are the only one for me, the person with whom I wish to spend the rest of my life," he says.

She smiles up at him, stepping a little closer. "Remember when you said we are all wandering around looking for the person carrying the missing piece of our soul?"

"Of course," he answers, smiling in anticipation of her next words. He reaches for her, his hands resting on her waist.

"I knew you were telling me I held yours, even though you didn't come right out and say it," she says. "As I fell asleep, I remember wondering – no, _hoping_ – you held mine." She pauses a moment. "You do, Arthur. I know this for certain. I… I think it's what this all-encompassing feeling I was having trouble describing is. I… I love you," she continues, her voice almost a whisper. "I really do."

His lips are immediately on hers, eager but gentle, and she can feel the joy radiating from him. Her arms circle his neck as his slide around her back, holding her closer, and she feels like she could fly if she set her mind to it.

Guinevere gently pulls away, smiles up at Arthur, then tucks her head under his chin and hugs him tightly, squeezing hard, almost desperately. His arms wrap around her and hug her back just as fiercely.

"I love you, Guinevere," Arthur whispers into her hair.

"And I, you," she answers, smiling against his chest with the realization that it is so easy to say now._ I like saying it. It feels... right._

They stand, holding one another for several minutes.

Finally, he loosens his grasp on her, tilts her chin up and kisses her again.

He opens his eyes and gazes down at her, his hands framing her face, thumbs wiping the last remnants of tears. "I hope those are happy tears," he says.

"Yes," she answers, her hands on his chest.

Something catches the corner of his eye. "That doesn't look like dinner," he says, nodding at the cake cooling on the counter.

"Oh, yeah. I told Gwaine I'd bake him a whole cake because I made him leave Merlin's party before he got a cupcake," she explains. "I ordered us pizza for dinner."

He laughs and hugs her again. "Sounds perfect. Cake is an interesting shape though."

She looks over at the cake, which is in the shape of a half sphere. "Um, yeah. I'm going to make it look like a boobie. Since it's for Gwaine and all," she explains, giggling.

He laughs again, harder, throwing his head back. "Bloody hell, just when I think I couldn't love you more..."

Guinevere puzzles up at him. "What?"

Arthur looks down at her. "I just learned that you have a wonderfully naughty little sense of humor," he grins and kisses her, deeply this time. He pulls away, guides her to an empty section of countertop, then lifts her, sitting her on it. "Better," he declares.

"I _was_ getting a stiff neck," she agrees, pulling him closer until he is wedged between her knees.

He smiles and leans in, his tongue sliding against hers, his fingers splayed wide on her back. She sighs into him and wraps her legs around his waist, one hand in his hair.

Then, the doorbell rings.

"Pizza," Guinevere gasps, pulling her lips away. Arthur trails kisses down her jaw to her neck. "_Arthur_," she presses, struggling to regain her wits.

"Hmm?" He lifts his head.

"Pizza man is here," she says.

"Oh. Right." The doorbell rings again, and Tito starts to bark. He pecks her lips and jogs to the door.

"Arthur," she calls, hopping down from the counter and following after him, grabbing her purse, fairly certain his wallet is upstairs.

xXx

Arthur and Guinevere take Tito for a long walk after dinner, enjoying the warmth of the approaching summer. They don't speak much, but don't need to, content to bask in one another's company, her hand clasped in his.

Arthur brought his frisbee along and they spent some time in the park, Guinevere watching while Arthur and Tito played Fetch the Frisbee. He also attempted to teach Guinevere how to throw the disc after she explained why she didn't throw it to him the day they met.

"I'm very glad you didn't, but not because I could have lost an eye," he said, smiling.

Tito waited impatiently while Arthur instructed his mistress in the proper way to throw a frisbee, leaping and turning in circles as he waited to exercise his new skill.

He looked rather disappointed when Guinevere finally threw it and it landed with a _thump_ on the grass before he could catch it in the air. It hadn't gone very far.

In the end, she decided to leave the frisbee throwing to Arthur.

After Arthur grows bored with playing (much to Tito's dismay), Guinevere and he spy the bench they first sat on the day they met. Arthur smiles slyly, takes his wife by the hand, and leads her to it.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and she leans against him. Tito curls up beside Arthur's feet.

A moment later, Guinevere lifts her head. "Oh, God, Arthur, I'm so sorry... how are you? I mean, what were these last couple of days like for you? I should have asked sooner, sorry," she finishes, her face concerned.

He tightens his arm around her and kisses her forehead. "Honestly, they were... awful. I kept reminding myself to have faith in you, to trust that you would find your way... get yourself sorted. But, it wasn't easy. Not easy at all."

She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur sighs. "I was so scared, Guinevere. Facing the very real possibility of spending the rest of my days without you… I couldn't think. I could hardly breathe. Somewhere in the back of my brain I realized I was functioning, but it felt like my entire being, my entire life, was suspended over a cliff."

Tears fill Guinevere's eyes. "Oh, Arthur…" She simply does not have the words with which to respond to her husband's pain. She lifts his hand and kisses it sweetly, tenderly.

"Merlin was great. He put up with my moping. Forced me to eat. Listened to me when I needed an ear. He left me alone when I needed to be alone and _didn't _leave me alone when I told him to go away."

"He's a good friend," she says, wiping her eyes.

"He's a pain in the arse," Arthur counters, but he is smiling.

"Good friends often are. I have Gwaine, remember?" She looks up at him and kisses him. "How was court on Friday?"

He shrugs. "I don't really remember. We won, but I did nothing. Father was running the show."

"I remember, you mentioned it Friday morning," she says, nodding.

"Did I? Oh, right, I guess I did. Most of what I remember from my workday Friday is... hazy. Um, I didn't really sleep Thursday night, so..."

"Yeah, neither did I," she volunteers.

He leans his head down, resting his forehead against hers. "I was miserable without you, Guinevere," he softly admits. "It was like... like the end of _The Wizard of Oz_, where it goes back to black and white after being in color. Only without the 'there's no place like home' ending." He closes his eyes. "That part came today," he adds, opening his eyes again. He reaches up, leash dangling from his hand, and strokes her cheek with his finger.

"I promise I'll never make you go through that again," Guinevere whispers, gazing up at him with watery eyes.

Arthur hooks his finger under her chin and softly kisses her, heedless of people walking past. "Let's go home," he says. She nods in agreement.

When they return to their house, Tito crashes on the floor, content and worn out. It's still early, so Arthur and Guinevere decide to find a movie to watch and pass the time cuddling on the couch.

Ten minutes into the movie, his lips find their way to her neck. She's sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, and she feels him shift behind her. He angles his head and presses a soft kiss to the side of her neck, his lips slightly parted so he can taste her, his tongue tantalizingly wet and rough against her skin.

She sighs, her head falling to the side to lean against the couch as he continues his attentions. Finally, she turns enough so he can reach her lips, and they lose themselves in one another for a few long moments.

"I missed you so much, Arthur," she whispers, nuzzling him. "So much."

"I know, Love, I missed you, too," he answers, reaching for the remote control to turn the movie off. "We're not watching this anyway."

She smiles and caresses his face, taking in every detail of him. "I love your face," she whispers, cupping it between her hands, her thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. She blinks. "That sounded kind of weird, didn't it?" she says.

He smiles. "Not at all," he says. "I love yours, too."

She pecks his lips. "Thank you," she says. Then, she smiles. "You should probably know that I have a tendency towards being, well... kind of a dork."

He laughs, a delighted joyful sound that makes her heart swell. "Who doesn't?" he asks.

"You don't. You're not one to blurt things out before you're able to stop yourself, or say dumb things like 'Wow' after the first time you kiss someone, or just generally keep rambling on, saying nothing at all, like... like I'm doing right now, bloody hell," she says.

He kisses her. "You just listed three things I love about you," he says. "And, for the record, after our first kiss I completely lost the capacity for speech. I felt dumb because I couldn't even manage a 'Wow'."

Guinevere giggles and blushes slightly, leaning her head against his.

"I'm a huge Sci-Fi nerd," he admits, kissing her again. "Did you not notice the contents of my Blu-Ray collection?"

"Not really," she says. "I mean, I saw what movies you have, but I didn't find them odd at all."

"Oh," he says.

"I'm more of a Fantasy girl myself."

"_I'll_ say you are," he suggestively answers, his hands sliding on her back for emphasis.

She laughs. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"I know. Doesn't make it any less true though," he seriously answers, then kisses her, deeply and longingly.

"Let's go upstairs," she whispers against his lips.

He can only nod. She smiles.

xXx

Arthur takes his time undressing her, kissing each new inch of skin as it is exposed. They are still standing, and as he slides her jeans down her legs, she is finding it more and more difficult to remain upright.

Guinevere steps out of her jeans, her hand on Arthur's shoulder for balance, then backs up and sits on the bed. He smiles knowingly, almost smug, as if he knew he was making her weak in the knees. He steps towards her and she holds up her hand.

"You're still dressed," she teasingly admonishes. "No fair."

He grins, quickly stripping down – completely – as she watches. "Better?" he asks, still looking quite pleased with himself.

She laughs, knowing he purposely removed _everything _simply because she still has on her bra and panties. She lifts her foot and slides it on his thigh. "Much," she says trying to be serious again. Then, he lifts her foot higher, kisses the bottom of it, and she yelps.

"Ooo, someone is ticklish," he says, doing it again, brushing his lips more pointedly on her sole.

"Ah! Stop!" she squeals, laughing. _Who would have thought I would be laughing at a time like this?_

_ I guess this is what happiness feels like._

Arthur sets her foot on the bed and prowls over her, dropping kisses here and there. He presses a kiss to her cleavage, then carefully tugs the edge of her bra with his teeth.

Guinevere lifts up, reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, and yanks it off, tossing it carelessly aside. She sighs as his lips close over a nipple, suckling and flicking his tongue across the stiff peak. "Mmm..." Her back arches a little and she runs her fingers into his hair.

His hand skims down her stomach until his fingers find the waist of her knickers. He trails his fingers back and forth, following the edge, and she squirms.

He lifts his head, pecks her lips, then removes her last remaining garment, settling between her feet.

Arthur slides his hands up and down her long, smooth thighs a few times, savoring the feel of her skin under his hands.

He places a wet, lightly biting kiss high on her inner thigh and rests his hands on her hips. He kisses again, higher, and she sighs, throwing her hands up over her head. He delves forward, licking softly, experimentally.

"Oh..." she exhales, her body slowly writhing as he repeats the motion. She mewls softly and he gets a little bolder, more ardent with his kisses, licking and sucking, circling his tongue around her button until he hears beautiful small whimpers and moans coming from her mouth.

Then, he slides one finger inside, adding another layer as he laves her.

"Arth..." she gasps, her fingers finding his hair.

He opens his eyes and looks up to see her head tossed to the side, one hand clutching a breast. He groans against her and forces his eyes closed before the sight causes him to spill on the bedclothes.

Guinevere's breathing has gone shallow and she's trying very hard to stay still. But, his _lips_. His _fingers_. His _tongue_. She tightens her grip on his hair and moans, long and low, as her hips begin to flex involuntarily. She hangs on to the edge, trying to savor the immense pleasure he is bringing forth for as long as she can.

Arthur's tongue slides in just the right way, he adds a second finger, and she lets go with a breathy "Oh!" Her hand moves out of his hair to grip the sheet beside her instead as he lifts his head, a satisfied grin on his face, watching her ride out her orgasm, feeling her tightening again and again around his fingers.

She exhales as he removes his hand and opens her eyes to see him licking his lips as though he has just finished a decadent dessert he wishes to remember.

"Mmm, that was fun," he purrs, kissing his way back up her body again.

She laughs, still coming down, and wraps her arms around him when his face finds hers. "You're good at that," she blurts, then closes her eyes. Just as she's wishing she could snatch the unfiltered words back, he chuckles warmly and kisses her. _I have to remember he likes that about me._

She moves one hand down, seeking him out as they kiss. Just as she finds him, he rolls them so she is on top.

"Oh!" she exclaims, surprised.

"You're in charge, Wife," he says, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

_Okay then._ She kisses him, sucking his lower lip a bit first. His hand slides down her back and squeezes her backside.

Guinevere moves, kissing his jaw, then neck where she softly sucks his Adam's apple, then licks the hollow between his collarbones. Arthur grunts and flexes his hips up against her.

She leans back slightly, taking his length in her hand, softly stroking him a few times before moving him into place, sliding him along her folds a few times.

"Mmm," he rumbles, his hands finding her breasts.

She slowly sinks down over him with a soft sigh.

"So good," he whispers, taking her hips in his hands as she starts moving, sitting up but leaning forward slightly.

She opens her eyes and gazes down at him, watching his half-lidded eyes and parted lips. Her hand comes up and strokes his jaw, fingers grazing the light stubble forming there. She glides her thumb along his lower lip and he gently nabs it with his teeth, sucking on it a little.

Guinevere moans, leaning down. She replaces her thumb with her tongue, sweeping it over his lower lip before delving in for a slow, deep kiss that draws a groan from his throat.

"Oh," she gasps, breaking off as the new angle hits her just _right,_ and she moves faster and a little more enthusiastically over him. "Arthur..."

"Guinevere..." he answers, his voice a throaty whisper that makes her heart swell even as it further enflames her desire. He runs his hands over her highly-sensitized skin. His eyes are closed; his face, relaxed and blissful.

"Ah... mmm..." she pants, capturing one of his hands with hers and pressing it to her chest, over her heart.

Arthur opens his eyes and looks at his beautiful wife. "Open your eyes," he murmurs. Guinevere obeys, looking down at him, into his blue eyes with their pupils blown wide with desire. He turns his hand in hers, guiding it down to his chest, where he places their joined hands over_ hi__s_ heart.

She leans on their hands as they continue to move together, eyes locked on one another, feeling the build, the delicious gentle burn that grows hotter and more intense until it finally explodes.

"Oh! Arth..."

"Guinev..."

They still, and he releases her hand to wrap his arms around her, pulling her tight against him, letting the wave of pleasure – shared pleasure – wash over them.

Together.

"Wow," Guinevere finally says, her head on his chest.

"Mmm-hmm," is all Arthur can manage, but the smile on his face speaks volumes.

"I love you so much, Arthur," she says, lifting her head to kiss him.

"And, I love you, Guinevere," he answers. "So much."

She shifts slightly, disengaging them, but stays put, lying on top of him.

They are quiet for a short time, listening to the sounds of their breathing, softly touching. Guinevere can hear Arthur's heartbeat, and its gentle thud would lull her to sleep if his fingers weren't dragging lines and patterns over her skin.

Eventually, she speaks. "You know, liking Science Fiction doesn't really make you a dork. It makes you more of a geek." She lifts her head, grinning up at him.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Would it help if I told you I used to pretend I was Doctor Who?"

She laughs, burying her face in his chest. "Yeah..." She looks up again. "Was Morgana your companion?"

He snorts. "No. She was usually too busy listening to/drooling over Take That or pretending she was a Spice Girl."

"Which one?"

"Either Scary or Posh, depending on her mood," he says, laughing. "She'd kill me if she knew I told you this."

"I won't say a thing," she promises.

"Did _you_ have a favorite Spice Girl," he asks, grinning, his fingers trailing up and down her back.

"Um, I was more of a grunge person myself. Nirvana, Garbage... Stone Temple Pilots, um, Cranberries."

"Ooo, interesting," Arthur says, clearly intrigued.

"I wanted to be Shirley Manson."

"Mmm..." he rumbles. "That would be a good look on you. Dark red lips, short skirt, fishnet stockings... boots. Do you have boots?"

She giggles. "I've got purple Doc Martens and knee-high black heels."

"I'm dead. The visual imagery has killed me," he declares, flopping his arms to the side and feigning death.

Guinevere continues laughing. "Hmm, let's see if I can _resurrect_ you," she says, starting to slide down his body, kissing him as she goes.

By the time she reaches her goal, he's mostly erect again, and as she slides her lips over his shaft, he groans loudly. "Oh, God, Guinevere..."

xXx

It is fully dark out, and they lie together in bed, the television off, completely content with one another's company. After their second interlude, Guinevere went to the bathroom to tidy up a bit, wash her face, and redo her hair, braiding it for sleep. Arthur took his turn once she was done.

"What would you like to do tomorrow?" he asks, sliding into bed. She immediately cuddles to his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Nothing," she answers. "I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to leave this house. Maybe not even this room."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," he says. "But, we may need to eat a few times."

"That's quite likely. Oh, bugger, I probably should finish the cake for Gwaine," she remembers, laughing.

"So, we go nowhere. And, no communication with the outside world either."

"Right. Except we should let a few people know we're okay," she points out. "Elyan. Merlin. Gwaine. Oh, Morgana might like to know as well."

"Right. Wait, we can do that now," he says. They briefly part to reach for their mobile phones.

Guinevere sends her brother and Gwaine the same text: _Arthur and I are good. Very happy now._

Arthur texts Merlin: _Guinevere and I are great. Thanks for taking me in. _To Morgana, he sends _All good here. No need to worry about us._

Gwaine texts back first. _Don't forget about my cake! Oh, I'm glad for you, too. :)_ Guinevere smiles, rolls her eyes, and sets her phone aside. She doesn't expect to hear from Elyan until tomorrow at the earliest.

Merlin and Morgana both reply with _Thank God._

"There. Done," Arthur declares, returning his mobile to the nightstand.

"Good. It'll be nice to stay in tomorrow, because I'll have a busy day Monday," she comments, her head on his shoulder again.

"Really? What's going on?" he asks.

"Well, I have work, and then a lunch date with some bloke..." He pokes her in the ribs and she yelps. "Then, I'll have to go downtown and fill out some paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

She lifts her head. "I do believe I'll have to sign _something_ to change my last name."

His eyes light up. "Truly? You've decided?" he asks, not even trying to hide his joy over her decision.

"Yes. I want to take your name, Arthur. I... I think I decided yesterday actually," she admits, furrowing her brow.

He blinks a few times, then realization dawns. "The credit card," he guesses.

She nods. "I was disappointed it had my maiden name on it," she reminds him.

"Yes, I remember," he says, smiling. "Honestly, I really wanted to have 'Pendragon' put on it, but didn't because, well, you know."

"Yeah. I feel kind of bad, because now you'll have to call them again," she says.

"So, I have to call them again," he says, shrugging as though it is no big deal. "Honestly, Guinevere, they would print a card with Tito's name on it if I asked them."

"Tito Pendragon?" she laughs, then fake-coughs, and it sounds suspiciously like the word "posh" is in the middle of it.

Arthur laughs and squeezes her. "Get used to it, Love. It occasionally comes in handy."

Guinevere squeezes him back and kisses his chest. "I did rather enjoy furniture shopping," she admits.

"Atta girl," he says. "The trick is knowing when to use that power."

"Okay, Spiderman, I got it," she chuckles. After a moment, she looks up again. "Where is our marriage certificate? I think I'll need it for Monday."

"In the desk in the study," he immediately answers. "We'll get it tomorrow."

"Okay," she says. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_, Guinevere. You don't know how happy I am that you've decided to take my name," he says, tilting her chin up.

"I think I have a small idea," she says, her eyes sliding closed as he kisses her. "But, why don't you show me?"


	13. Chapter 13

_7 June_

_ It's been a good week. A really, _really_ good week. I don't think I've ever been this happy. It's as though... everything is where it belongs now. __I'm__ where I belong. My life has meaning now._

_ The missing part of me has been found._

_ I haven't had time to write much since last Saturday morning because we've been busy. We spent a lot of time talking on Sunday (among other things). I found out so much about Arthur. I like listening to my husband talk; learning about his life. He seems to like listening to me, too. He really pays attention, as though what I'm saying is the most interesting and important thing he's heard._

_ I found out the cancer from which his mother died was one of those very aggressive forms. By the time she was diagnosed, it was already too late. Uther doesn't talk about her much and Arthur thinks his father would be a more pleasant person if he could somehow bring himself to do so. He doesn't think Uther ever got over her death._

_ I can totally see that about him._

_ I also learned Arthur thought about a career in sports, but didn't think he was good enough at football to go pro. I think that was the first time I've seen any lack of confidence in him. It's very interesting. He's usually very confident and self-assured, but not irritating or boastful._

_ I will say seeing him unsure of himself about footy was a bit endearing. He was very cute._

_ We talked about other, shallower, things as well. We finally decided what to do with the parlor and had discovered hardwood flooring under the carpeting in there._

_ We've hired workmen to take care of that. I asked and was met with absolutely zero resistance. After helping my Dad do that exact task when I was 15, I don't much fancy doing it again, so I was quite glad. I showed Arthur the scar I received on my leg for my efforts. He kissed it and said, "Of course, we'll have it done professionally. We'll have someone take down the wallpaper, too, because that's a bugger as well."_

_ He wanted to hire painters, too. I like to paint, so I told him I would take care of it._

_ I did tell him I would like to have the downstairs loo completely redone. It looks like 1974 in there. He thought it was funny, then said, "Anything you want, my love." So, that's going on, too._

_ Oh yeah, I am also officially Guinevere Pendragon. Took care of it immediately after lunch on Monday. Arthur actually came with me. He had already called the credit card company that morning._

_ With all the activities in the house (including continuing to work in the garden – I put in vegetables yesterday), I haven't had much time to write._

_ So, I was quite surprised when I opened the file and found this:_

My dearest Guinevere,

I hope you do not mind my writing in your journal, but since you have allowed me to read your innermost thoughts, I figured it would be okay if I wrote a few of my own.

I sometimes forget that speaking isn't the easiest way for everyone to communicate. Being a barrister, I need to be able to speak well. Not that you _don't_ speak well, far from it (I believe you speak better than you probably think you do), but after reading what you've written... I feel like I know you so much better now.

You've got a very good memory. I was amazed at some of the details you recalled. The list of things I told you the day we met alone, bloody hell. You really pay attention, and that's brilliant.

And, you're really funny. I know you think you're kind of a dork, but I think you are always adorable. When you let your guard down and let me see inside that wonderful head of yours, it's the best thing ever. Even when you don't intend to and start rambling or let something slip out. I love all those moments.

Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened for us if I had behaved like a normal human male and just asked you on a date instead of for your hand. Sometimes, I wonder why "Will you marry me?" came out of my mouth instead of something clever and witty that would make you laugh. Something that would make you willing to give me your number and go on a date with me. Several dates.

But, invariably, when I have those thoughts, all I need to do is remember. You said, "Yes." You took my hand and came with me on this odd journey. And, I am forever grateful for it.

I'm not sure if it's a result of circumstances or if it's just _us,_ but I've grown closer to you faster than anyone. It's been, what, three weeks, and you know more about me than anyone else. I wasn't sure if the reverse was true, but after reading this, I think it is. I can't express to you how much it means that you would share your journal with me. That you would trust me with this part of you, hidden to everyone else... I can't describe it. I can only hope to show you. Every day.

I have never _truly _loved another, Guinevere, and I never will.

All my love,

Arthur.

_ So, yeah, I was crying by the time I finished reading it. Then, I closed the laptop, found Arthur (he was outside, just having finished mowing the lawn), and hugged him for about two minutes. After that, I kissed him again and again while telling him I loved him._

_ I was a mess. That was yesterday evening, which, thankfully, was Friday, so I was able to stay up later. We talked more, about the house (we're frequently talking about the house right now), but also about other things. I told him more about Elyan and his music. About my parents. He already knows how they died, but I hadn't told him much about them as people. I wasn't sure if he'd like to hear about how wonderful they were because he doesn't remember his mother and his relationship with his father is not close, but he was really interested. Almost eager to hear about them._

_ It makes me sad, honestly, to think of Arthur as a child, growing up with a distant father and no mother. But, apparently, Hunith had enough mothering in her for both Merlin and Arthur, so he was lucky to have her looking after him. He said he had spent a lot of time at Merlin's._

_ I asked him if there was ever a possibility of Uther and Hunith hooking up. I believe his response was, "Oh, God, no. Father is much too damaged to be a good husband to anyone, much less to someone as amazing as Hunith." Then, he paused and added, "Hunith isn't over Balinor's death, either, to be honest. The difference is she'll talk about him."_

_ Guess not then. Pity. Someone like Hunith would be good for Uther._

_ Our one-month anniversary is tomorrow. He's taking me out somewhere posh tonight (_not_ the same place we had dinner with Uther). I bought a new dress, which was yet _another_ thing I had to do this week. Morgana came to my rescue after I sent her a text saying "HELP ME". I know Arthur would have been happy to come shopping with me (he said so), but I needed the assistance of someone who possesses at least a little objectivity. I love him, but telling me I look beautiful in every dress I try on was not going to help in this situation._

_ Plus, he openly admitted he has no eye for women's fashion._

_ I haven't let him see my dress. It's red._

_ I probably should start getting ready._

xXx

_12 June_

_ I saw Arthur in court today. He told me on Monday he had a trial today, in the afternoon. Tuesday, I asked if I could come and watch. He was surprised, but happy I was interested. I simply pointed out that he's been to my work, so I'd like to see him doing his._

_ He warned me it might not be as exciting as I think. "It's not like on telly, just so you know," he said..._

Instead of meeting Arthur for lunch on Thursday, Guinevere leaves work a little early so she has time to make herself presentable. She quickly showers and puts on a simple skirt and top. She puts her hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, allowing a few loose tendrils to hang, and even applies a little lip gloss. Then, she grabs the sack lunches she put together for them last night, and heads to Arthur's office.

She's been inside Pendragon Law Offices enough times so most people recognize her. No one questions who she is or why she is there. She's even greeted with a "Hello, Mrs. Pendragon," a few times, which she finds she really likes hearing.

Guinevere knocks on the open door of Arthur's office.

"Yes?" he asks, looking over from his computer screen. "Ah, Guinevere," he says smiling broadly and standing.

"Hungry?" she asks, stepping into his office. He walks around his desk to meet her, kissing her hello.

"Yes, but we don't have time for that," he suggestively teases.

"Stop..." she laughs, playfully swatting his shoulder.

They move to the small sofa in the corner and Guinevere unpacks their lunches while Arthur asks his assistant to bring them some beverages.

"What time is the trial again?" Guinevere asks.

"One-thirty," he answers.

"Shouldn't you be meeting with the clients and stuff?"

"Did this morning. They left ten minutes before you arrived, in fact. Went to get lunch."

They eat quietly for a few minutes.

"Are you nervous? You don't seem like you are," Guinevere asks.

"Not really," he answers. "I don't generally get nervous."

"Really? I'd be sweating like a pig and feeling like I have to pee every ten minutes. Whenever I had to give a speech in school I always felt like that," she says. "Sorry, this is probably not helping."

He chuckles. "One of the differences between you and me, I guess. I don't have a problem with public speaking."

"Must be nice," she says.

"It is when one is a barrister," he says, waggling his eyebrows at her. He takes a drink from his bottle of water.

"Arthur, do you have... oh, excuse me... hello, Guinevere," Uther's head appears around the edge of the open door.

"Hello, Mr. Pendragon, how are you?" Guinevere politely greets her father-in-law.

"Um, good, thank you," he answers, obviously not expecting to see her there. He fully steps into the office. "And, you?"

"Very well, thanks. I'd offer you a sandwich, but I'm afraid I only brought two," she says, smiling.

"Guinevere is coming to see the trial this afternoon," Arthur says, answering his father's unasked question. "What is it you need?"

"Oh. The file for the Odin case. Geoffrey said he gave it to you this morning, and I'd like to take another look," Uther explains.

"Yeah," Arthur pops the last of his sandwich into his mouth, jumps up, and moves to his desk. "Beyond me why you still insist on shuffling papers around when we could be using Dropbox or Google docs or something," he says, shaking his head, but smiling.

"Getting there," Uther mutters, taking the file. He looks back at Guinevere. "Is that homemade bread?"

"Um, yes," she answers, looking down at the last quarter of her sandwich.

"Looks much better than the packaged kind from the market," he comments.

"Of course it is, Father," Arthur says, sitting.

"I'll send you a loaf," Guinevere offers.

Uther's eyes light up. Just a little. "That would be... lovely... thank you," he says. "Thank you for the file, Arthur," he adds, turning his attention back to his son.

"Yep," Arthur nods.

Uther exits, and Guinevere notices Uther doesn't wish his son luck in court or give him any words of encouragement. _I guess Arthur is just expected to do well. Still, some well-wishes would be nice, especially from one's own father._

Arthur reaches for a few crisps from the bag she brought, eats one, then clears his throat. "Um, Guinevere, I should tell you... you might see a different side of me in court. It depends on how the trial goes, but sometimes I have to be a little... ruthless. Aggressive. I try not to get too nasty, but again, it depends on how the other side is behaving."

"Oh," she answers, blinking. "I guess I can understand that."

"I just don't want you to think I have a dark side that will come out at home or anything," he says, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "It's... well, an act, if you will. A persona I put on which I only wear in court."

"Thank you," she says, smiling. "I'll keep this in mind if it gets ugly in there." She pauses. "Will it?"

"Probably not. It's a pretty straightforward case. Embezzlement. The evidence against the defendant is pretty solid, so we shouldn't have any hindrances."

"Well, if there is solid evidence, why is there a trial?" she asks. "You'll have to forgive me, this is not an area in which I have any experience."

"Of course," he says, smiling. "There's a trial because she pled 'not guilty'. So, now we have to prove she _is _guilty. A 'not guilty' plea doesn't mean 'I didn't do it'; it means 'I want you to _prove_ I did it'. There's a difference."

"Oh, I see," she nods. "Interesting. See, that's why I'm not up on this kind of thing. The language is all tricksy."

He smiles. "Yes, Precious, we uses the tricksy talk to confuse the stupid fat hobbitses," he says, doing a very poor Gollum impression.

Guinevere almost spits her water across Arthur's office. "Oh, my God, you _are_ a geek!" she laughs, coughing a bit.

"Sorry," he says. "Are you all right? I thought you'd appreciate the Lord of the Rings reference. Seeing as how you are a 'Fantasy girl' and all."

She's still laughing. "I did, but... yours is the worst Gollum I've ever heard!"

"I know, it's terrible," he says. "But, points for effort, right?"

"Always," she says, leaning over to kiss him.

xXx

Guinevere rides with Arthur to the courthouse. He's calm and collected; she's getting nervous. She's not concerned about potentially seeing him with his claws out. She's anxious in general because in his shoes, she _would_ be anxious.

He escorts her to the balcony, explaining she will be able to see better up there and he doesn't know how many people from the company he is representing will be in attendance, so it will also be less crowded. He kisses her once more and she wipes the lip gloss from his face (she re-applied it after lunch). "I know you'll do wonderfully," she says, making sure to encourage him particularly since his father did not. He beams at her, then heads back down to the main floor.

Guinevere sits alone in the front row, watching everything around her. She's never been in a courtroom before, and is very curious about all she sees. A few other people file in as it grows closer to 1:30, and she wonders why they're present. The trial is open to the public, so all she can do is guess. _Do they know someone involved in the case? Are they just curious onlookers? People with no place else to go?_

The activity below starts to settle down, and a man stands and bids everyone to rise. The judge walks in and the trial begins.

It's a mildly interesting case, but Guinevere quickly realizes Arthur is right. It's not like lawyer shows on telly. _Not that I watch many of those; haven't watched one for years, in fact, but this is mostly dul__l__._ The woman on trial worked in the accounting department of an electronics manufacturer and was caught embezzling funds over a period of five years. She stole millions of pounds, caused the company to make cutbacks and layoffs, and put them in financial hardship while she went on extravagant shopping sprees and purchased a high-end Jaguar.

Arthur is excellent. Guinevere is impressed with his eloquence and sharpness. _Nothing gets past him; he's amazing. Yes, his manner is more brusque and aggressive than to what I am accustomed, but it really _works_ here._ He never raises his voice, but gives off an air of absolute authority, like he is king of this courtroom. She also gets the distinct impression the defense attorney knows he is not going to win this case. _He doesn't actually seem to be trying very hard,_ she observes.

She notices Arthur catching her eye every once in a while, which she likes, but also hopes her presence isn't a distraction for him. _It certainly doesn't seem like he's off his game. Not that I would know._

As her husband stands to make his final statements, Guinevere watches more than listens. He looks impeccable in his charcoal suit, white shirt, and red tie. She notes his proud posture, assertive hand gestures, and the steady, authoritative tone of his voice. _It's almost a game. I can see how, in a more difficult or ambiguous trial, all of these elements could come into play to sway a judge or jury. The Alpha Male must show his dominance._

_ And boy, is Arthur ever an Alpha Male. _Very_ impressive._

In the end, the woman is found guilty. She is not yet sentenced, but Arthur asks for the maximum punishment at the request of his client due to the exorbitant amount of money the woman stole and the resulting damage done to the company.

_I'll have to remember to ask him how it all turns out._ As she watches the session wrap up, Arthur finds her face in the balcony, and she gives him her proudest smile. She thinks he actually blushes a little.

xXx

Guinevere waits in the corridor for Arthur to walk out of the courtroom. He emerges shortly, speaking with his clients. He spots her nearby and gives her a quick smile of acknowledgement. The three clients all glance in her direction, wondering at whom Arthur is smiling. Unable to hear him, she sees his mouth form the words "my wife" and smiles. One of the men looks back over and gives her a respectful nod. She smiles in response.

A minute later, the clients are shaking Arthur's hand, clearly pleased with the outcome of the trial. They head towards the doors while Arthur heads for his wife.

"You were wonderful," Guinevere greets Arthur, smiling warmly at him.

"Thank you," he humbly says, ducking his head a bit. "Just doing my job."

"Well, remember how impressed you are watching me up to my elbows in dough?" she asks.

"Yes?"

"Double that," she says.

He grins. "I didn't have to be too much of a jackass today," he comments, a little relieved she didn't have to see him in full shark mode.

"I didn't think you were a jackass at all," she replies, looping her hand through his elbow. "I thought you were in complete command of the courtroom. Would I want to be the opposing counsel? Certainly not. But, I think your bearing and demeanor were completely appropriate given the situation."

"Oh," he says, smiling down at her. "Thank you. I'm glad I didn't put you off."

"Not at all," she says. She pauses a moment, then adds, "I think you were very... alpha."

"Alpha?" he asks, opening the door for her.

"You know, like the alpha male of a pack? The... dominant male?" She leans up and whispers into his ear. "The one with whom all the female wolves wish to mate?"

Arthur stops walking and stares down at her. _That is not what I was expecting at all._ "What?"

"It was pretty sexy, seeing you all in charge like that, that's all I'm saying," Guinevere says, shrugging lightly, a grin on her face.

"Really?"

She laughs. "I'm not saying I want you to behave that way with me, not at all, but... yeah. It was hot."

He finally regains his composure, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I am glad my lady was impressed," he says. They start walking again.

He opens the car door for her, and she slides in.

When he joins her inside, she looks at him. "So, I'm curious now," she says.

He starts the car and asks, "What about?"

"You made sure to warn me that trials can be kind of boring and you sometimes have to be a bit of an arse," she starts.

"Yes?"

"What do you like about your job? I mean, it's pretty clear the tedium isn't something you enjoy, and I don't _think_ you like being a jerk, so, what are some of the good parts?"

He smiles, navigating his car through town. "I like the challenge. Using my brain. Sometimes, it's like a big puzzle. This case was fairly simple since there was a paper trail a mile long, but other times I really have to do both mental and verbal gymnastics to get the job done." He pauses, then adds. "The best part is when I can help people though. Being in corporate law, it doesn't happen a tremendous amount in my cases, but sometimes I can see really positive results from a good verdict."

"Like today?" she asks, smiling. "It sounded like she could have bankrupted the company had she not been caught."

Arthur nods, returning her smile. "Yes, she could have. So, yes, today was one of those times. Part of her sentence will likely be to pay back what she stole. I hope the company will be able to turn things around and start making a profit again. Maybe hire back some of the people they had to lay off." He reaches for her hand and holds it in his, resting them both on his thigh.

"I hope so," she says. "They've been around for a long time and provide many jobs."

Arthur squeezes his wife's hand at hearing the evidence of her generous and caring spirit. He parks the car and looks over at her. The late afternoon sun is shining through the window of the car, bathing her in a soft, warm glow. _She looks like a beautiful, golden angel._ He smiles. "I owe you an apology, Guinevere. I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look today," he says, reaching up to caress her cheek.

"It's all right," she says, leaning into his touch. "Your mind was where it should have been – on the case."

"No excuse," he says, moving closer and kissing her. "I can always spare a few seconds to tell you how lovely you are."

"Thank you," she whispers against his lips. They spend a few moments kissing, then she asks, "You have to go back to work, don't you?"

"Yeah," he says, sighing, resting his forehead against hers. "But, there's less than an hour left, so it won't be too bad."

"Right." She kisses him. "I have to make dinner anyway."

"We could go out," he suggests, kissing her. "Or order in."

"Tomorrow," she says, rubbing her nose against his.

"Okay." He kisses her one last time, then starts the car. "One of my clients was wondering if you had a sister, by the way," he comments, opening his car door.

"Oh, dear," she laughs as she climbs out, wondering if it was the one who nodded at her.

"Yeah, he was a bit disappointed when I told him you only had a brother," he continues, chuckling. Then, he sighs dramatically, standing in front of her. "Ah, the burden of having a beautiful wife..."

"Stop..." she says, still laughing, lightly swatting his chest. He catches her hand and kisses it, then holds it as they walk to his office.

xXx

_14 June_

_ Uther is coming over for tea this afternoon. I invited him. I not quite sure what came over me. When we got back to Arthur's office Thursday, I went in with him to retrieve the canvas bag in which I brought our lunch._

_ We ran into Uther as Arthur was walking me out (and this is a random thought that just occurred to me, but I wonder if Uther wanted to name Arthur 'Arthur' because it kind of sounds like 'Uther'. Maybe he wanted Uther Junior, but Arthur's mum said, "No way," because, well, _Uther_, and so he just answered, *sigh* "Fine, how about... Arthur?" And then, his mum just raised her perfect golden eyebrow at him and went, "Why, because it sounds a lot like 'Uther'?"), and he was still being nice to me in his odd, stilted way._

_ Then, it suddenly hit me how lonely he must be, and before I knew it I was inviting him for brunch on Sunday. Arthur didn't bother hiding his surprise, which was kind of funny. Uther just gave him a look and told me he wouldn't be able to make brunch, but suggested Saturday afternoon tea. I haven't had a proper tea in a while, so why not? I made some petit-fours and scones yesterday, and this morning I'm going to make the loaf of bread I promised..._

"Love, I was thinking about... what are you doing?" Arthur asks, walking into the kitchen to see Guinevere moving her stand mixer to the island.

"I promised your father a loaf of bread," she answers, plugging it in. "What were you thinking about?"

"Going to pick up some painting supplies. Brushes, rollers, trays, that kind of thing," he says, wandering closer, watching as she gathers ingredients and sets them on the countertop. "Can I watch?"

"You're not going to get paint supplies then?" she asks. He's right beside her now, so she leans up and kisses him.

"Well, considering we haven't completely decided on colors yet... plus, I wanted you to come along. And, since you're doing this, I'd rather stay and watch."

Guinevere looks at him. "Instead of simply watching, do you wish to learn how to make a loaf of bread?" she asks.

Arthur's eyes widen. "What?"

"You heard me," she says, grinning. "Come on, it'll be fun," she adds, nudging him with her elbow.

"But, this is for my father. What if I bugger it all up?"

"You won't. Besides, _this_ one," she indicates the area directly in front of her, "will be his. You'll be making your own, right alongside me."

"Oh. So, you'll make yours and I'll make mine at the same time?" he asks.

"Yes. Just do what I do and you'll be fine," she says.

"Sure, why not," he says with a shrug. He claps his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "All right. What should I do first?"

She smiles at him. "Get a bowl."

"I don't get to use the fancy mixer?" he asks, looking forlornly at her top-of-the-line stand mixer, perched proudly on _her_ side of the kitchen island.

"Not this time. You have to learn the manual way first before graduating to the cool toys," she says, bending down to retrieve a mixing bowl for him, having realized he probably has no idea where one would be.

Arthur takes the bowl from her and sets it on the counter. "Okay," he says, feigning massive disappointment.

"Nice try," Guinevere giggles. "Water," she points, heading to the sink. "You want it warm, but not hot. You should just barely be able to tell it's warm."

"Why?" he asks, placing his hand under the running water.

"You'll kill the yeast," she explains, filling her measuring cup to a precise amount. She shows him, and he does the same with his cup.

Next, she measures some yeast and adds it to the water.

"You don't use those packets?" he asks.

"Don't trust them," she explains. "I've gotten too many envelopes with dead yeast in them."

Arthur makes a face. "How do you know they're dead?"

"Watch," Guinevere says. She squirts some honey into the measuring cup with the yeast and water, then hands him the bottle.

He takes it, eyeing it dubiously, then squeezes some into his measuring cup. He looks at her, seeking approval, and receives it in the form of a sweet smile.

"Now, we wait," she says.

"How long?"

"Five, ten minutes. Then, you'll see what I mean by 'dead yeast' versus 'living yeast'," she replies.

"All right," he says, leaning against the edge of the counter. He pulls her over, and she stands facing him, between his feet, resting her hands on his chest. "I have an idea of how to pass the time." He grins and bends his head to kiss her.

"Sometimes, I suspect you have a one-track mind," she says just before his lips reach hers.

He softly and sweetly kisses her for a few moments. "Well, I can hardly help it, with such a charming," he kisses her, "intelligent," another kiss, "and beautiful wife." He kisses her longer, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss.

"How are you even real?" Guinevere breathily says when they part, dropping her head further back to look up at him.

"Funny, I wonder the same thing about you," Arthur answers, smiling down at her. He reaches up to tuck an escaped curl into the scarf holding her hair back, then kisses her nose.

"You do?"

"Mmm-hmm," he nods. His hand, still lingering near her face, caresses her cheek. "I wonder how I got so lucky."

"You are too sweet," she says, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"No, I'm not," he counters. "I have just the right amount of sweetness for a man who is simply in love with his beautiful wife."

Guinevere smiles and flushes an attractive shade of pink, not knowing what to say.

Arthur wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head.

"I have to say, I rather like this scarf-and-apron look you're working," he says.

She pulls back slightly and looks up at him. "Stop," she laughs, thinking he's teasing. Then, she looks at him more closely. "You're serious," she realizes.

"Quite serious," he says. "And, it's not in any sort of misogynistic, 'women belong in the kitchen' kind of way, either, I assure you. I simply think you look rather adorable."

_Seriously?_ "So, is that why you keep coming to visit me at work?" she asks, amused and touched at once.

"It may play a tiny role," he admits, grinning down at her, his fingers toying with the loose curls cascading out of the open back of the scarf.

"You're still strange... but I like it," she says, smiling.

"As long as you like it," he says, still grinning. His eyes briefly flick to the island behind her. They widen slightly and he asks, "Are they supposed to do that?"

Guinevere turns in his arms and looks at the measuring cups. The milky brown liquid now has a creamy, foam-like substance on top. "Yes, they are. If they didn't, that would mean the yeast are dead."

Arthur releases her and they walk back to the island. He leans over his measuring cup. "What makes them do that? Are they growing? If we let them go too long, are we going to see horrible yeastie-beasties crawling out to eat us?"

She laughs, her face in her hands. "No, no..." she says, still chuckling. "The yeast eat the sugars in the honey, and, well, they get a little gassy."

"Wait. The air bubbles in bread are yeast farts?"

"And, burps," she supplies. He bends down, his ear close to the foamy goo. "You can't _hear_ them, Arthur," she says, laughing again.

He stands up straight again, laughing with her. "What now?"

"In the big bowl," she says.

She shows him all the steps. Flour. Some more honey. Salt, for flavor. While hers gets kneaded in the stand mixer, she shows him how to knead his dough by hand.

"Whoa, you've got some muscles there," Arthur says, admiring the strength in her slender arms as she shows him how to push and pull the dough.

"Yeah, as long as I keep doing this," Guinevere replies, pushing the ball away one more time, then folding it back and turning it, "I won't get those flappy arm things." She pats the ball, still kind of lumpy, and steps away. "You try." She switches the mixer off.

"All right, stand back," he says, threading his fingers together, stretching his arms out in front of him, and pushing his joined hands forward, palms-first, cracking them theatrically.

"Arthur, you're not going to play a concerto," she laughs.

"Very well," he says, poking the ball of dough with his finger. "Oh, wait." He carefully pulls his wedding ring off and places it in the pocket of his shorts. "Don't want to get that all gummed up," he says.

Guinevere looks down at his left hand. _It looks bare without his ring._ There is a slight indentation on his finger where the ring was, and a pale tan line has formed there, likely from his time working in the garden with her.

Arthur begins slowly, mimicking what he saw his wife doing earlier. "Like this?" he asks.

"Close," she says. She ducks under his arm and stands in front of him, moving her hands around so they are on top of his. It's a little awkward, but she wouldn't be able to reach or see if she stood behind him. She guides his hands a few times, dutifully ignoring the warmth of his body radiating into her back and the feel of him so close behind her. "Try again," she whispers, slipping back out again.

He clears his throat. "Okay," he answers, evidently as distracted as she was. He takes a deep breath to clear his head as well, and tries again, unaided. "Better?"

"Yes, you're doing it the proper way now," she says. She watches his forearm muscles for about ten seconds before she remembers her own ball of dough. She removes it from the bowl of the mixer and gives it a few turns by hand, just for good measure. Then, she forms it into a smooth ball and covers it with a tea towel.

She smiles, watching as he speeds up, getting the rhythm of the motion, becoming more comfortable with it.

"This is kind of fun," he says.

"Good. You can stop now."

He frowns. "I was just finding my groove."

"You don't want to do it too much or the bread will be chewy," she explains. "Try to smooth it out some, and then it has to rest and rise."

"Okay." Arthur shapes his dough, sets it on the counter beside hers, and covers it with a second towel. "Now, we wait?"

Guinevere nods, stepping to the sink to wash her hands. "Yes."

He joins her, washing his as well. "How long?"

"We'll check them in an hour or so." She dries her hands, then passes him the towel.

He dries his hands, puts his ring back on (as does she), then looks at her. "A whole hour?" he asks, his voice low as he steps a little closer.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Good," he answers, taking her hand and leading her from the kitchen up to the bedroom.

xXx

"How much time do we have left?" Arthur asks, trailing his fingers down her spine as she lies beside him, her body curled against his.

Guinevere lifts her head and looks at the clock. "About 20 minutes," she answers. She kisses him before returning her head to his chest.

"Hmm... I could do something with 20 minutes," he rumbles, his hand sliding down to squeeze her backside.

She giggles, turning her face against his skin. _He always smells so good._ "You _do_ have a one-track mind," she says.

"You love it," he counters, grinning that smug grin that only makes him look sexier and more confident. Then, suddenly, it slips a bit. "Don't you?"

"What?" she lifts up, looking down at him, slightly alarmed at his change in demeanor. "Arthur, is something wrong?"

"No, no... maybe... probably not," he answers, now holding her tightly. He blinks up at her, his eyes large and serious. "Are you happy?"

Guinevere relaxes a little, understanding now. She smiles and kisses him. "I am _very_ happy. In fact, I can't remember ever being so happy. I love you, Arthur," she pauses, kissing him again. "I love you, I am happy, I don't have any reservations about being your wife, and I am not," she shifts, moving so she is lying on his chest, "going," she kisses him, "anywhere." She kisses him again, a long, slow, deep kiss full of reassurance and promise.


	14. Chapter 14

_21 June_

_ One of the surprises Arthur had for me at our one-month anniversary dinner was a diamond necklace. It's tasteful and small, exactly my taste. I was impressed. And, very touched. He's so sweet. I had a gift for him, which I gave him at home, a new leather wallet embossed with his initials. It wasn't anything fancy or expensive, but he loved it. I noticed his wallet was in really rough shape, so I got him a new one. He told me he loves that I notice details like this._

_ The other surprise was the news that Morgana is throwing us a party. A wedding reception, technically. Apparently, she had her heart set on it, and when Arthur and I had our little... whatever that was... she had a minor freak out. Had already started planning, unbeknownst to either of us. So, after she found out we were okay, she told Arthur about her plans. It's going to be at her house, hopefully in her (very large) garden._

_ Fortunately, the weather gods have smiled on us. It rained Sunday through Wednesday, but it's been sunny and beautiful since Thursday. So, plenty of time for things to dry out._

_ The only sad bit of news is Elyan can't be there. The band is in France right now. He sent me a shot of the Eiffel Tower this morning in fact. We've really gotten better about communication. We talk about once a week and text almost every day, even if it is just a "hello" or a silly picture. I had a bagel that turned out looking like a bum one day, so I snapped a photo of it and sen__t__ it to Elyan. Then, I ate it. I sent him a picture of that as well. Had it clenched between my teeth. He loved it._

_ Anyway, the party is this afternoon. We asked that it be casual, so I am wearing a simple lavender sundress and Arthur is wearing a white shirt and khaki trousers. He looks _way_ too good in white. He favors red, but something about the white offsetting his golden coloring is just... yum._

_ What was I talking about? Oh, yes. The party..._

"Are you sure I look all right?" Guinevere asks as they walk up to the Pendragon-Rupert house.

"Guinevere, you look absolutely beautiful," Arthur reassures her. "And, I'm not just saying that." He leans down and kisses her, his hand caressing her cheek.

"You lot forget you're outside?" Gwaine's voice interrupts them and they separate, laughing.

"Hey, mate," Arthur says, greeting him.

Guinevere gives him a hug. "No date?"

"Nah, not for this," Gwaine answers. "Elena said she'd take pity and dance with me if she had to," he adds.

"Well, don't make it sound like a chore," Arthur says, chuckling as they walk around to the back garden.

"Have _you_ ever danced with Gwaine?" Guinevere asks, looking up at Arthur.

"Obviously not," he answers. "Are you a bad dancer?" he asks the other man.

"I'm a good dancer," Gwaine protests.

"He gets a little... hands-y," Guinevere clarifies. Seeing the look on her husband's face, she quickly adds, "Not with me though."

"She nearly broke my finger the one time I tried it," Gwaine elaborates, pushing open the gate.

Guinevere and Arthur walk through and as they come around the side of the house, both stop dead in their tracks.

There is a large stage set up at one end of the garden, and the Knights of Swing are setting up.

Guinevere stares, gaping in shock. "But... how... Arthur?"

He is as surprised as she. "I had no idea," he answers, smiling brightly, thrilled Elyan is here after all.

Finally, Morgana sees them, grabs Elyan, and runs over.

"Surprise!" Elyan says, hugging his sister, then his brother-in-law.

"Are you surprised? Really?" Morgana asks, clearly ready to jump out of her skin.

"Yes! But... I... you... France..." Guinevere stammers, unable to collect her thoughts. She hugs Elyan tightly again, kissing his cheek, then embraces Morgana.

"How on earth did you do this? You're supposed to be in France!" Arthur asks, hugging Morgana, then Elyan.

"We were. Going back tomorrow morning," Elyan says. "Hey, Gwaine," he greets his friend, standing to one side.

"Hey, El," Gwaine answers, and they quickly hug. "Miss Morgana."

"Tarzan," Morgana answers, grinning. "Bar is over there, mate."

He winks and disappears.

"Where are Leon and Mordred?" Arthur asks, looking around.

"Oh, Mordred was just waking from his nap. He'll be having a change and some yogurt, then they'll be out. Leon knew I wanted to be out here when you arrived, so he's on Daddy detail," she explains.

Guinevere nods, recovered from her shock. "How did you arrange all this?"

"Oh, it wasn't that difficult. Just a little planning and creativity," Morgana shrugs.

"This woman has connections like you would not believe," Elyan says. They start walking towards the stage. "Well, maybe _you_ would," he says to Arthur, who chuckles.

"How did the two of you even get in touch?" Guinevere asks.

"You told us all about Elyan at brunch that day," Morgana casually says. "From there, it was easy."

"Oh, yeah, convincing our manager to rearrange our schedule, booking flights, getting all this," he waves his hand at the stage, "set up. Piece of cake."

Morgana grins proudly, enjoying the praise. The rest of the band members start coming down from the stage, all warmly greeting Guinevere and Arthur before returning to start tuning and warming up.

"Thank you so much, Elyan," Guinevere says, hugging her brother tightly. "You don't know how disappointed I was that you weren't going to be here." She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. Then, she remembers something. "You obviously didn't take that photo of the Eiffel Tower this morning," she adds with a watery laugh.

"I never claimed I did, Gwennie," Elyan answers. "And, you're very welcome. I wouldn't miss this. You're my only sister." They hug once more and he goes up to the stage.

Guinevere turns to her sister-in-law. "Thank you, Morgana. This was beyond anything I could have imagined." She hugs Morgana again, then wipes her eyes.

"Thanks, Sis," Arthur says, hugging her as well. "This is brilliant."

"Oh, I really didn't do anything," Morgana says again, walking between them, her arms linked through theirs, heading for the food table. "I just did the leg work. Elyan paid for everything."

Guinevere stops walking. "What?"

"Yeah. He insisted. I couldn't talk him out of it," she explains.

Guinevere looks back at the stage and finds her brother. He smiles and lightly shrugs, as though he knows what she's just learned, and resumes tuning his bass. _No big deal._

"I can't decide if I want to kiss him or kill him," she says.

"Don't kill him, Love," Arthur says, pulling her into his arms. "I know you think it's too much and he shouldn't spend his money on you this way, but it obviously means a great deal to him."

"I know," she sighs against him. "I'm just overwhelmed. In a good way." She chuckles. "Seems to be a pattern," she adds.

Arthur smiles warmly at her and kisses her forehead.

"Your brother's a great guy," Morgana says. "Cute, too. Talented. Why is he single?"

Guinevere laughs, pulling away from Arthur. "Says he's too busy with his career."

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard," Morgana says. She starts looking around the party. People are trickling in fairly steadily. "Is he straight?"

"What are you doing, shopping?" Guinevere asks, laughing. "Yes, he's straight, but..."

"Give it up, Love," Arthur says. "Matchmaking is a sport for her."

"_You_ always managed to avoid my efforts," his sister retorts, glaring playfully at him.

"Something for which I am quite thankful," Arthur declares. He looks over Morgana's shoulder. "Oh, Merlin and Freya are here. And, Percival. Come on, Guinevere. I don't think you got to meet him at Merlin's party," he says, taking his wife by the hand.

xXx

Arthur and Guinevere make their way through the party, trying to talk to everyone. There are still people they haven't yet met from each other's lives, so lots of introductions are made. Guinevere meets not only Percival, but several people from Arthur's office. Arthur meets Annis and Isolde and her husband, Tristan.

There is a large spread, but no head table or any formal dining arrangements. Arthur and Guinevere wanted a simple garden party. The band plays quiet background music for the first couple of hours so people can easily converse.

"Gwen... Gwen!" Elena appears out of nowhere, tugging Guinevere's arm.

She turns, chuckling at her. "Yes?" she calmly asks, grinning at her mysteriously-excited friend.

"Who. Is. That?" Elena pointedly looks across the garden, where, about 15 yards away, Percival is standing and chatting with Gwaine as if they'd known one another for years.

"Gwaine," Guinevere answers with an impish grin, knowing full well that's not the answer for which Elena is looking.

"Gwen!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. That's Percival Thomas. He's a school friend of Arthur's and works with Freya. Have you met Freya?" Guinevere asks.

"Dark hair, looks like a woodland fairy? Yeah. She's adorable," she absently says. "Tell me more about Thor there. Single? Straight?"

Guinevere laughs, looking for Arthur. "I'm probably not the best person to ask, since I only just met him tonight." She spots her husband, running nearby with a laughing Mordred on his shoulders. "Arthur?" she calls.

He trots over, and Mordred reaches his little hands down to Guinevere. "Auntie," he says. Arthur lifts the toddler from his shoulders and hands him to Guinevere, where the boy promptly drops his dark, curly head on her shoulder.

"What's up?" he asks, reaching over to smooth Mordred's hair. He's been running nonstop since he came outside, and his hair is slightly damp.

"Elena wants to know about Percival," Guinevere says. She suddenly realizes she's been slightly swaying from side to side since Mordred landed in her arms.

"What would you like to know?" Arthur asks, grinning like he knows _exactly_ what Elena wants to know.

Elena raises an eyebrow at him.

"He's single," Arthur says. "And, straight."

"_Why the bloody, buggery hell is he single?_" Elena demands in a whisper-shout, flabbergasted. "There's got to be a reason. He's completely gorgeous. Wait. Does he _know_ he is? Is he a wanker? Stupid?"

Arthur is laughing rather hard now. "No, he's a top bloke really. He's just a little shy, that's all."

"Isn't he a teacher?" Elena asks, confused.

"Doesn't mean he's not shy with adults," Arthur says. "Especially female adults. Come on," Arthur says, beckoning. He winks at Guinevere.

"_Morgana's_ the matchmaker... right," Guinevere knowingly nods.

Arthur kisses her cheek, then escorts Elena over to Percival and Gwaine while Guinevere heads to find her overheated nephew something to drink.

Ten minutes later, Mordred is asleep on the now-seated Guinevere's shoulder, and Elena and Percival are still in the same place, talking, without the help of Arthur and Gwaine.

Arthur returns to his wife's side and smiles warmly at her, enjoying the sight of her with a baby in her arms.

xXx

"Hello? Hi. Thank you for coming, everyone," Morgana's voice rings through the garden some time later, and everyone turns towards the stage. "Did you like the food?" There are general affirmative murmurings. "Good. Now. The Knights here are going to start to... kick it in, or whatever the kids today say. So, if you feel inclined to dance, there's room for that. In fact, we _expect_ the bride and groom to be out here," she waves her manicured hand towards the area in front of the stage, "dancing."

The guests laugh quietly, and she continues. "Now, I'm not going to give a toast or anything like that, but I do need Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon to step forward."

"What's going on?" Guinevere asks Arthur, a little wary.

"No idea, Love, sorry. I'm a little worried myself," he says. "But, we'd better go up, because the longer we wait, the more irritating she'll get."

"Waiting..." Morgana sings.

They start walking forward. "See?" Arthur mutters, and Guinevere giggles.

"I'm not going to embarrass you or anything. Not horribly anyway," Morgana cajoles. "I also need my lovely assistant. Lovely Assistant, where are you, darling?"

Arthur and Guinevere reach the stage and turn, expecting to see Leon walking forward. Instead, it's Merlin, with something in his hand. It's flat and white, with a red bow stuck to it.

"_Merlin_ is your lovely assistant?" Arthur asks, laughing.

"I'll have you know I am _incredibly_ lovely, Cabbage Head," Merlin protests, intentionally bumping into Arthur's shoulder as he walks past.

"We all chipped in and got you this gift," Morgana explains, and Merlin very pointedly hands Guinevere the envelope.

Guinevere opens the envelope and withdraws a card about the same size as the envelope. She reads it. "It's a travel voucher," she quietly says, showing Arthur. She looks over at him and sees her expression mirrored on his face. _Wow._

"Because you two weirdos got married the way you did, you didn't take a honeymoon," Merlin explains.

"So, there you are. Go someplace good or you owe all of us our money back," Morgana teases.

Guinevere tucks the card back into the envelope, touched and humbled by the unbelievably generous outpouring from their friends and families. She reaches over and squeezes Merlin's hand, blinking back tears.

"Thank you so much," Arthur says, loudly enough for all to hear, even without the microphone. "We really weren't expecting this. It's beyond brilliant. Thank you."

"All right. Music. Dancing. And, do _not_ skip dessert; it is not to be missed," Morgana concludes, passing the microphone to Bedivere. When she comes down from the stage, Arthur and Guinevere each hug her tightly, thanking her again.

They walk away as the band begins playing "Beyond the Sea." A few people step out to dance, but Morgana detains the bride and groom another minute or two.

"By the way, I don't need to find a girl for your brother," she tells Guinevere.

"What? Oh, don't tell me he's secretly married, too..." Guinevere jokes. Arthur laughs, and Morgana chuckles a little, but feels a bit like she's missing some important information.

"Um, no, but he's definitely sweet on one of the backup singers," Morgana explains, looking up at the stage.

The two backup singers are not needed for this song, but they sit nearby. One of them, a petite, beautiful young lady with large, deep brown eyes seems to have her attention focused on Elyan. He glances in her direction a fair amount as well.

"Ooo, I'm going to need to have a chat with my big brother," Guinevere says. Then, Elyan happens to look her way. She raises her eyebrows at him, then glances over at the singer. Elyan grins and quickly turns his attention back to the song.

"Do you know her?" Morgana asks. "She's gorgeous, so I hope she's nice."

Guinevere nods. "That's Grace. She's very nice and very smart," she answers. "I like her. I just have to take the mickey out of my brother. You know how it is."

"Indeed I do," Morgana agrees.

The song ends and a new one starts, an original tune of theirs, a Ballad called "Come Springtime."

"Mrs. Pendragon?" Arthur asks, holding out his hand.

"Mr. Pendragon," Guinevere replies, taking it and letting him lead her to the center of the garden.

He holds her close as they dance, Guinevere's head tucked under Arthur's chin. Occasionally, he kisses the top of her head or his hand creeps up to caress the skin on her upper back and shoulders.

"Guinevere." He leans back a little, slightly relaxing his hold on her.

"Hmm?" she asks, opening her eyes.

He leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. "You had your eyes closed?" he asks, his lips brushing hers.

"Yeah," she answers. She kisses him, then adds, "I figured I could trust you to keep me upright."

"Always," he replies. "That was a great gift. So unexpected."

She nods. "It's wonderful."

"So... where would you like to go? Hawaii? Greece? Spain?" he asks, taken with the thought of going away with her.

"Disney World?" she asks, her eyes alight.

"Honestly?"

"I've always wanted to go there," she admits.

He smiles and kisses her. "Well, if it's someplace you've always wanted to go..." he starts, then pauses. "However... why don't we wait until we have some children to bring along? Wouldn't that be so much better?"

Her heart swells at the thought. "Yes, it would," she agrees, her voice slightly breathy.

"We'll go someplace romantic and..."

"Tropical," she supplies.

"Definitely. Romantic and tropical, just the two of us. Then, when there are three or four..."

"Or five..." she quietly interjects.

His eyes widen. "Five?"

"Maybe," she shrugs, biting her lower lip.

"Okay, three or four or _five_ of us, we'll do Disney World. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So, back to my original question then..."

"I'm going to have to think about it." She cocks her head at him. "Where would _you_ like to go, Arthur? You're always doing what I want. What do _you_ want?"

He barely hesitates. "Italy."

"Italy it is then," she nods.

"I've always wanted to go to Venice and take a gondola ride with a beautiful woman," he says, leaning down for another kiss.

"We'll do that and more," she promises.

"I love you so much, Guinevere," he whispers, suddenly realizing they haven't really been dancing so much as standing and slightly swaying.

"I love you, too, Arthur," she answers, cupping his face in her hands as she leans up and kisses him.

The band launches into "Sing, Sing, Sing," and Guinevere looks up at Arthur. "Can you dance to this?" she asks.

His eyes widen. "No," he says, drawing out the 'oh' sound. "Can you?"

Guinevere makes a face which clearly says, "Of course." She looks around, trying to find a willing partner. Merlin appears to be doing the same, so she walks over to him. "Doctor?"

"You can dance?" Merlin asks, his face resembling that of a small child's on Christmas morning.

"Let's see what you've got, Merlin," Guinevere says, taking his hand.

xXx

It is now fully dark out, but the garden is illuminated and lively. Mordred has been tucked up to bed. Morgana even seems to have made some kind of arrangement with the insects to keep them away for the evening despite the food, lights, and festivity.

The band is just finishing a break, and Guinevere quickly grabs Bedivere for a moment before he returns to the stage.

"You're sure?" he asks, eyebrows rising in surprise at her request.

She takes a deep breath, then nods. "If it's all right with you and Helen," she says.

"Of course it is!" he exclaims.

"You know the song?"

Bedivere rolls his eyes. "Please..."

"Right, sorry," she laughs.

"Give me two minutes," he says, jogging up to the stage to talk to the band.

Guinevere looks around for Arthur, wanting him to be around but not _too _close just yet.

"What's going on?" Merlin's voice makes her turn.

"Where's Arthur?" she asks.

"Loo. He'll be back out in a second – oh, there he is. What's going on?" he repeats.

"You'll find out in a second, provided I don't chicken out," she answers.

"Gwen?" Bedivere calls down to her, and she walks up the short staircase to the stage. She sees Helios in the back, grinning at her from the trumpet section. He gives her a thumbs-up. Elyan could not look prouder.

"All right, everyone, we have a special treat for you," Bedivere says into the microphone. "We've been hassling Gwen for_ever_ to sing with us. And, by 'we', I mainly mean Helios," he says, glancing back. Helios waves.

Guinevere sees Arthur walking towards the stage, curious.

"And, tonight, Miss Gwen – or should I say, Mrs. Pendragon – has agreed to finally grace us with her voice. Hell, she even _asked_ if she could. So, um, Mrs. P., if you will?" He extends his arm to the side, and Guinevere walks up, looking slightly nervous. Bedivere gives her shoulder a soft squeeze, then heads to his piano at the side.

She sees Arthur standing in the center of the dance floor, near the front, smiling at her. His support gives her strength, and she nods at Bedivere, then steps up to the microphone.

The music starts, a slow, familiar introduction, usually played by strings, but soft saxophones make a very good substitute.

Guinevere takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and begins singing. "At last, my love has come along..."

She doesn't belt it out like Etta James, but sings the classic tune in a much sweeter, softer way that is no less heartfelt than the original. Her voice doesn't soar; it floats. When she opens her eyes, she looks only at Arthur. He gazes back, his face reflecting his love for her, and his eyes are glistening.

Uther has been keeping to the fringes of the party, mainly chatting with Annis. He's been watching Arthur and Guinevere most of the evening, observing how they interact. Now, as he listens to his daughter-in-law sing this heartfelt song, a song that always makes him think of Ygraine, he cannot help but be touched by what he is seeing and hearing. _Her voice is lovely and clear; well suited to this style of music._ He can tell that, while she is not entirely comfortable on a stage or being the center of attention, she is doing this for _Arthur_. She is singing only to him. Her eyes are locked on him, and he is completely smitten, standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. Others dance around him, but they stay to the edges, fully aware that this song is not for them.

Uther withdraws his mobile from his pocket and sends a text to Geoffrey. _ Cancel the postnuptial agreement paperwork. It will not be necessary_.

Guinevere finishes singing, hardly able to believe she did it, and the guests erupt in applause and cheers. So does the band. She smiles, her cheeks feeling like they are on fire, says a very quick and quiet, "Thank you," and attempts to disappear.

Bedivere grabs her hand and pulls her into a hug, then Elyan comes down and hugs her as well.

"Bugger, I wish we could have recorded that," Bedivere laments. "That was brilliant."

"Oh, God, I'm so glad you didn't!" Guinevere exclaims, her hands over her mouth.

"So, one-time deal then?" Bedivere asks.

"Um, yeah," she answers. "I thought I was going to die."

"You were _so_ good," Elyan insists.

"Thanks, El. Um, can I go see my husband now?" she asks. Arthur is waiting at the bottom of the steps.

"Oh! Right, yes, sorry," Elyan says. "Go, go."

Guinevere heads to the steps, and Helen stops her for just a moment. "You've got quite a voice there, Gwen. Helios and Elyan always said so, but... yeah, they're right. Any time you want to do it again..."

"Thanks, Helen, but I don't think so. I only did this for Arthur. I'll leave it to the professionals. How can you do this all the time?"

"You get used to it," she says, shrugging. She squeezes Guinevere's hand, then releases her so she can continue down to Arthur.

He is waiting at the bottom of the steps, but he pulls her into his arms before she's all the way down, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around as he holds her in a tight hug.

"That was amazing, Guinevere," he says in her ear, his voice slightly thick with emotion. "_You_ are amazing. I can't believe you did that for me."

"I can't believe it either," she says, still holding his shoulders as he sets her on her feet. The band has started another song, a swing version of Stevie Wonder's "You Are the Sunshine of My Life."

"Are you all right? You're still shaking a bit," he says.

"Adrenaline wearing off probably," she says. "Let's go sit."

"Are you cold? Do you need your jacket? I can go get it from the car," he offers as they walk, her hand held securely in his.

"No, I'm fine," she says. "Just need some water."

"You sit; I'll go get you one," he says. She sits, and he walks over to where the drinks are.

"Guinevere, that was very well done," Uther appears from the shadows. "You have a very nice voice."

"Thank you, sir," she answers, smiling at him. "I've never done that before. Not publicly."

He nods. "Well, I enjoyed it. That song... it is a special song."

She smiles, having an inkling about his meaning. "Yes, it is." Arthur hands her a bottle of water. "Thank you."

"Father," Arthur greets Uther.

"Arthur. I was just complimenting your wife on her singing," he explains.

Arthur smiles. "Good. I'm actually surprised you're still here. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Uther smiles a little. "Yes. I'm going to be leaving very soon. My driver will be here in thirty." He holds his drink slightly aloft. "Your sister certainly knows how to throw a party."

"That she does," Arthur agrees. "Glad you're having a good time."

"Yes," Uther replies. "If you'll excuse me."

"Sure," Arthur says.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Pendragon," Guinevere says.

Uther pauses, regarding his daughter-in-law curiously a moment. "Thank you, Guinevere. And, do call me Uther," he says, then wanders away.

Arthur looks at her, eyebrows raised, and sits beside her. "Well. Look at that."

"Yeah," Guinevere agrees, knowing full well there exists no universe in which Uther would request she call him "Father" or "Dad". _Arthur_ doesn't even call him "Dad".

Arthur leans over, whispering in Guinevere's ear. "I'm quite ready to go home as well. I'm tired of sharing you." He pauses to kiss the edge of her ear. "I want you all to myself."

His lips on her ear send a delicious shiver through her. "I know," she sighs in agreement, enjoying the feel of his warm lips on her skin as he continues to kiss and nuzzle her neck.

Elyan's amplified voice draws them out of their little private bubble. "We have one last surprise for Arthur and Gwen tonight," he says, shielding his eyes as he tries to find them. "Where are you two?"

"Over here," Arthur calls. "We're busy."

His response is greeted with laughter, and he stands, taking Guinevere's hand and leading her back towards the stage.

"Okay, so, I've written a song," Elyan starts, suddenly bashful. "A song for the two of you. Gwen, after our conversation that evening – you know which one I'm talking about," he pauses, seeing his sister nod, "something you said about Arthur struck me. You said he told you he fell in love with you the moment he saw you, right?"

Guinevere nods. So does Arthur. Vehemently.

"That phrase just... rattled around in my head for an hour or so, then, the tune came. Another hour and a half later, I had a song."

"Oh, Elyan..." Guinevere says, her hands over her heart. "Arthur, he wrote a song for us," she says, looking up at him.

Arthur smiles down at her, chuckling warmly. "I know, Love. It's amazing."

Elyan smiles and continues. "We'd like to premiere this song for you now. It's called 'The Moment I Saw You'. I hope you like it, and I'm very happy for both of you."

Guinevere covers her mouth with her hands, overwhelmed again. Arthur gently pulls her into his arms, reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks as the music starts.

Elyan hasn't moved from the microphone, and Guinevere sees that Helen has stepped over to the platform in the back and is playing Elyan's bass.

"He sings?" Arthur asks.

Before Guinevere can answer, Elyan begins singing. His voice is husky and smooth, softer than Bedivere's. Not any better or worse; just different. _It's been so long since I've heard his voice._

They dance, alone, everyone else watching from the sides. No one else dances this time. The words are simple but poignant. Elyan has somehow managed to capture the magic of that first meeting nearly perfectly, almost as though he had been there.

There is an instrumental break, and Arthur leans back just enough to prompt Guinevere to look up at him. Her tears have stopped, and she looks more beautiful than he's ever seen. _I didn't think it was possible._

"You didn't think what was possible?" she asks.

"Did I say that out loud?" he replies. She nods. "I didn't think it was possible for you to look more beautiful," he clarifies. "But, right now, in this... moment," he smiles a little, "you look more beautiful than I've ever seen."

Guinevere leans up and kisses him, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair, communicating her feelings without using words, heedless of the onlookers. She has completely forgotten about them.

Elyan resumes singing the final chorus, and when he finishes, everyone cheers. Elyan bows, then jumps down from the stage to hug his sister.

"Love you, Gwennie," he says, kissing her cheek.

"Love you, too, El," she answers. "That was amazing, thank you. I can't believe you wrote us a song!"

"You liked it?" he asks, looking back and forth between Arthur and Guinevere. They both nod.

"It was brilliant, mate," Arthur says.

Bedivere has started talking now, saying something about not being able to follow that up with anything and they hope everyone had enjoyed the performance.

"We'd like to put it on our next album, but I told Bedivere I wanted your okay first," Elyan says. "Is it all right?"

"Yes, Elyan it's fine. Just... don't put our names down or anything," Guinevere says.

"You don't want credit?" Elyan asks. Arthur also looks curious about this.

"Well, it... it makes it less special if _everyone _knows," she explains.

Elyan nods, understanding. "I see. Kind of private, right? I'd like to put something in the notes, but I'll be vague. Cool?"

"Okay," Guinevere says.

"Thank you, Elyan. Best gift of the night," he says.

"Oh!" Elyan exclaims, surprised. He recovers quickly and says, "You're very welcome. So, since it was the best gift, you won't be wanting that travel voucher then..."

Guinevere laughs. "Nice try." She sees the band beginning to pack their things. "You need to go," she says. "Grace is looking for you, too."

Elyan looks up at the stage. "Yeah," he says, smiling at the petite singer, clearly waiting for him.

"Make sure you write her a song one day," Arthur says, shaking his hand.

"Way ahead of you, mate," Elyan answers, pulling Arthur into a hug. "Take care of my sister. The threat about the kneecaps still holds," he adds, but this time he is chuckling.

"Of course," Arthur says.

Elyan hugs his sister one more time. "Take care of him. And, let me know when I'm going to be an uncle."

"Elyan!" she exclaims, laughing and lightly swatting him on the shoulder. "Have a safe trip and let me know when you get back to France, okay?"

"Of course," he answers. "Good seeing you both." He heads over and hugs Gwaine, who has been hovering nearby, then returns to the stage.

Guinevere looks at Arthur. "Can we go home?" she asks. She is tired from all the emotions of the evening. They are good emotions, but she simply wants to go home and be with her husband.

"Yes. We can definitely go home," Arthur confirms. "But, you know what? If we stop and say 'goodbye' to everyone, we'll never get out of here."

"True. Can we sneak out?"

Arthur looks around. "Go into the house, like you're going to the loo. Then, go out the front door, and I'll meet you by the car," he says, kissing her.

"Ooo, covert operations," she says. "See you in a couple of minutes." Then, she turns and makes for the house. Arthur sees her briefly stop and say something to Freya before she disappears inside.

"Go, man. I'll cover you," Gwaine says, close behind Arthur.

"Thanks," Arthur laughs, then walks purposefully towards the garden gate. Once through, he spots Guinevere waiting by the car, and jogs to meet her, pressing the button to unlock it. "Let's go home, my love." He opens the door for her. "Are you tired?" he asks.

"Not _that_ tired," she says, caressing his cheek before ducking into the car.

xXx

_6 September_

_ We're going on our honeymoon today. Two weeks in Italy. Arthur is very excited. I'm very excited, too. I've never been there, and I'm actually surprised he hasn't either. He said they didn't go on holiday because Uther never wanted to be away from work that long. We went to the country a few times when I was a kid, but not much else. And, I barely remember those trips._

_ Morgana forgave us for sneaking out of the party without saying goodbye. She even admitted she was ready to have Last Call by that point anyway. I can picture her striding through the garden shouting, "All right, folks, last call! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!" I told her this, too. She laughed and said she sometimes wished it was socially acceptable to do such a thing._

_ Speaking of the party, Elyan and Grace are Officially Very Serious. Elyan is ring shopping. Percival and Elena have been dating exclusively for months now, too. Merlin and Freya are getting married in the spring. Arthur is going to be best man, of course. I'm making their cake._

_ I've cut back my hours at work. Isolde mentioned she is always happy to cover for me at any time and I found out she was actually trying to tell me that she really needs more hours to make more money. So, we talked to Annis, and now I work Tuesday through Thursday, and Isolde works Friday through Monday. She really doesn't mind working the weekends, as Tristan does as well, so it works for them._

_ I don't eve__n__ need to work actually. I'm still getting used to that. Arthur has suggested I leave the bakery and only do contract work. Things like Merlin and Freya's cake if they were paying me (I'm doing it free of charge for them). I would essentially be a freelance baker, which is kind of odd. Something to think about anyway._

_ Something else we've been thinking about is children. We both want them, but we've agreed to wait at least two years before trying for any. We need time to be _us_ before bringing anyone else into the picture. It was crazy enough to immediately get married. Having children right away would not only be completely insane, but potentially harmful to the child. Not that I think Arthur and I will split, but because we need to get to know one another better first._

_ And, we're well on our way. I learn new things every day, and so does he. It's actually become something of a game we play, lying in bed at night. We have a "what did we learn today" conversation, and if one of us hasn't learned anything, the other must come up with something to volunteer. It's usually pretty entertaining. I've taken to making a note in my mobile when I notice a detail so I won't forget._

_ I love our bedtime conversations. It's the best part of the day._

_ I know I keep saying this, but I'm really happy. Deliriously happy. Pinch-me-because-I-might-be-dreaming happy._

_ Are things perfect? Of course not. Do we have arguments? Yes. We're still getting to know each other, so it's going to happen. But, I have never again doubted my decision to marry Arthur the day we met. I have never again doubted my feelings for him._

_ I have never, _ever_ doubted his feelings for me._

_ Life is really good._

_ And, I am thankful. Very thankful._

_ For every moment._

-End-


End file.
